I fantasize about my eating disorder. I dream about it. I long for it & I crave it. I am aware that my resistance will only last so long. Relapse is inevitable.
The sad thing is- I'm not even upset about it. I'm actually kind of excited. Something familiar sounds good right now. Something that makes sense. Something that is mine.
Right now my entire world is Charlie, working, and taking care of the house. I literally do nothing else. I can't remember the last time I painted or created something. I can't remember the last time I sat down and no one needed me.
And really that's all I want. Just like one day where no one needs me.
This lack of having anything- of feeling routine, and not really in control- leads me to obsess about my body. Which will in turn lead to relapse.
I don't even care anymore.
