The Daggers

Stick and stones they break my bones

But words they really wound me

They pierce me like sharp daggers

Leaving open wounds in which the salt can pour in

Each hateful word, name, judgement

 Forms a dagger stabbing my being

The open wounds lay unhealed

Open to the next word, judgement, or stare 

To deepen the pain and hold they have

But no one knows the pain

No one knows the words that echo through my ears

The daggers from years ago that continue to chip away

That rip my soul, my bare open soul

That tears my heart to shreds

Shreds falling down to the cold stone floor

Losing hope of ever being pieced together

But no one knows

My apparent optimism covers the wounds

The smile of my mask covers the tears

Yet day after day

The daggers stab me

Leaving the open wounds

And this broken girl

Recovery Hangover

Yesterday I made a shocking realization. Choosing recovery brings me more pride and joy than my ED actions do. My ED actions may bring me initial joy (though even this is ceasing to be the case) but that's soon followed by guilt which propels me to act out again until I am in a vicious cycle. On the other hand, my recovery choices give me at first a sense of guilt (though this too is waning) and then extreme pride and joy with myself. The pride propels me to make more good decisions and they get easier.
Of course now I kind of have a recovery hangover. You know...that next day feeling when your mind is yelling at you to go back to your old ways. That pit in your stomach when you look in the mirror and are convinced you have ballooned. That out of control feeling you get because you are no longer trying to control your food. The extreme sleepiness from the stress of all this going on at once.
I figure this will pass. Each day the hangover will get less intense and I will get used to making recovery-oriented decisions. In fact I know that's the case because it happened when I was in treatment. But in order for that to happen I have to keep choosing recovery and not slip back to my old ways. Otherwise I have to start from the initial hangover that I am experiencing now.
I must say this is scary. Actually giving into recovery and making the decisions on my own. There are no inpatient personell telling me I must eat this, signing off on everything, watching me like a hawk. There is no threat of a feeding tube scaring me into completing my meals. There's just me and the fear of dying both spiritually and physically, propelling me to make the decisions I need to make. Perhaps that is why it is so hard. Perhaps that's why this recovery hangover is so intense. Because for once in my life, I am choosing to recover at each and every moment in the day.

Time to fight

Hey everyone--
Long time no post, but I have realized that blogging really did help me. In fact it helps me a lot more than journaling where a hand cramp can cause me to finish my thought processing before its over. So I decided to return to blogging since I need all the positive outlets I can get.
So update first. I lost more weight (I know, I know bad news) and now everyone including me, my team, and my family is freaking out that this ED could take my life. After a crazy two weeks, doing an internship with my dream job, gaining motivation, seeing my dying grandma, and getting a kick in the ass by my treatment team I have decided to start to fight with all I have. What does this mean? Well:
1. Gave my scale battery to my stepmom and only weigh myself once a week.
2. Am trying to eat what my body wants, not what my ED rules say it should have.
3. Being 100% honest with my team and family about my struggles and support I need.
4. Not using the food scale unless necessary.
5. Using measuring cups to get the right portions aka no skimping.
6. Only doing my alloted exercise and only when I need it.
7. Voicing my stresses and negative body image so I can get help for them.
8. And the major one....leaning on God at each and every meal, snack, trigger, urge, and slip along the way.

I really am hoping this works. Am I scared? Hell yeah. What I am scared of I am not sure. Perhaps the unknown. Definitely what my body will look like and how I will feel about it when I reach my goal weight. What people will say. What life will be like. But what scares me more is if I keep in this ED and die. I can't come back from that. That is a definite end. Lights out, no more, the end. Weight gain I can cope with. Fear of the future will subside. But death......there's no coming back from that.
So I ask for my readers support too. When ED is screaming tell me, because sometimes my bond with ED is so tight I can't separate it from me. I am fighting because I want to live and I'm hoping along the way I will start to fight because I truly want recovery. Right now recovery seems so far away, so foreign, so scary, that I can't use that as my motivation. But to live....well that is damn motivating.
I am open to any and all suggestions, motivations, whatever. I am gonna fight and I'm gonna win, because I have no other option.