Well ladies and gentlemen, I have bad news…
I’ve relapsed – again.
Up until now, I would have called it a lapse, because I have been struggling with my intake and body image for months now. But today, something changed. I found myself so hungry I thought I was going to throw up or pass out, yet I couldn’t bring myself to eat even a morsel of food even after working out for an hour and a half this morning at the gym. I’ve been convincing myself that this was just a rough time for me, which it is, and that as soon as I got back to school, I could forget about my stupid eating disorder and move on with my life.
Why is it a rough time, you may wonder? As many of my readers may recall, I’ve mentioned my dad moving back to America from London quite a few times. Though he told us all he was moving back last christmas, it has taken until now, yesterday to be exact, for this move to actually come into effect. The moment my plane landed in New Orleans (where I attend school), I received a text from my father – “Daddy’s home!”
Really Dad? Really? I used to hide in closets, behind locked doors, at windowsills with tears running from my eyes, waiting to hear those exact words again — what my father used to say when after returning home from work. After leaving me with an abusive mother at the age of 7, now is the time he realizes he want to be closer to us? Now that I’m living in another part of the country? And to make things even better, the rest of the family is still living in the north. My brother and sister will get to see him so often, will get to have what I always dreamed of having.
I’m sure this added stress is contributing to my weight loss, and I’m beginning to find this whole gain weight/relapse cycle rather pathetic right about now. I mean one relapse? Fine. Two? Okay. Three? Ehhh. But four? This is absolutely ridiculous. I’m so sick of this routine, this monster in my head whom wants so badly for me to be thin enough to tap daintily on death’s door. Why must I submit to ED’s lies so easily the moment I begin to lose control? Why must he always lurk in the background of my hazed life, waiting for my world to crumble beneath my own two feet?
A new semester starts tomorrow, and I want to be able to get through it alive. I want to be okay, to be able to support myself through this struggle, but now my ED voice is so loud, I’m afraid he won’t allow me to. I’ve lost about 4 pounds since my break began, and my friends are worried. To be completely honest, I’m worried. I’m miserable, and this is not the life I want. Yet I keep running back to it…