I’m getting better. I can tell. It’s weird as shit.
I’m getting to that point where seeing other people’s eating disorders annoys the heck out of me, rather than making me jealous or competitive. Yesterday, when one girl was finding fifty different ways to spread the cream cheese around on her bread, I just wanted to yell at her to stop it and eat her damn food – instead of wanting to find a way to consume one of my cherries in about a hundred bites. Which is what would have happened before.
Before what? I’m not entirely sure. Before… I let my heart go a little bit? Before I realized that there’s just more I want to live for than not eating? Before I decided that my eating disorder is just a waste of time? Before I became house mom here at the condo and felt that I have to be the one who’s all responsible and available?
I mean, it’s not like my urges have gone away. Dinner was fucking hard yesterday, and I definitely had to force myself to eat. But even while I was there wanting to purge what I had eaten and restrict what I hadn’t, my mindset was different. My mind was fighting for me – instead of fighting me. It was shoving the eating disorder back and telling me not to pay any attention, that yes, I did need the calories, that no, purging was not going to solve anything. It provided quite a rebuttal.
I’m being cautious. I know that if I get too uppity about how well I’m doing, I’m apt to “do-well” myself right into a relapse, because I won’t be on my guard. But hey, even a little progress is still progress. And I am getting better.