The past week or so has been really taxing. I can’t seem to regain the motivation I had at the beginning of this journey, and it’s weighing on my soul like a sac of garbage. I can rationalize that my motivation stemmed from the need to prove to everyone that I wasn’t consumed in my eating disorder, that I was strong enough to overcome it without struggle.
What a sham.
It is not my upbringing, the trauma, neglect and bitterness that fuels this. It is a habit, an addiction. I have lived with an eating disorder for 16 years, naturally it is not just going to go away, regardless of how bad I want it to.
I was doing so well. The puffy bags under my eyes were nearly gone, the dizzy spells had lessened, I wasn’t experiencing shortness of breath… all these things should have been motivating enough for me to maintain control. I don’t get why that isn’t the case. I don’t get why I fell so easily back in to old habits. Every time I look in the mirror lately I have big purple, puffy bags glaring back at me, and it makes me angry with myself. I should be stronger than this. The help is there, the encouragement is there, the desire is there… but the healing, the control, the motivation has been replaced with weakness.
Every day that passes, unsuccessfully, I feel more hopeless. This can’t be a loosing battle. I want my life back. I want to be normal.