This is not what recovery looks like...

I was changing my clothes the other day and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and well, ugh. I know what the number on the scale says, and I know I am not supposed to be so concerned about what the number on the scale says, and when my body is covered with clothes, I can almost believe for very brief moments of time on occasion that being fat is not the end of the world, but then I do something like see myself unclothed in the mirror and realized that is not actually true (at least for me, at this moment). And wouldn't you know it? ED is right there at my side in those moments, ready to stick his claws into me and exploit that moment and turn it into...whatever he feels like this week.

So this week, ED agrees with me. I am fat. And that is the most important feature about me right now. ED doesn't care if I am working hard or being a good friend or enjoying the nice weather or getting plenty of sleep at night. ED cares about the following:

• what I weigh.
• what I look like.
• what I eat.
• what I don't eat.

ED doesn't want me to do things that are going to make me feel better about myself. ED wants me to stay stuck, sitting on my couch, with him over in the corner, surrounded by the stuff that I can't be bothered to clean up, putting work that has to get done off to the very last minute. And he has the power this week! I have a project to do. It has to be done this afternoon. I have just barely started it. My home is a mess. I have been "going to vacuum" for about two weeks now. I have not vacuumed. I am trying as hard as I can to trigger myself back into restricting, which means spending a lot of time on pro-ana sites (which I had promised myself I would not do anymore) so I can read all about how people are eating nothing and try to emulate them (day three and counting! and a water weight loss of over 5 pounds!)! I am weighing myself, even though I know the scale is triggering. I am tracking every bit of food that goes into my body, and any time I have to give someone an accounting of what I am eating, I am padding the numbers to make it look like I am not restricting.

I think my ultimate plan in all this is that ED will "help" me lose weight (let me check back in with you next week when he has me eating my face off), and I will use therapy and meds to figure out the why behind my eating, and then everything will be wrapped up in a neat little package all at the same time, and I will find myself both (a) skinny(er) and (b) mentally and emotionally healthy! And I will continue maintenance meds and maintenance therapy, and ED will get up on his black horse and ride off into the sunset because I won't need him anymore.

I am aware that this is probably not how things will turn out. But for today, I need to believe it anyway.