It's almost time again, to head back home on the road to recovery, the highway of healing

I was going through all the photos of when I was starving today. And I can honestly say I miss it. I miss all of it. The hunger, feeling my bones, seeing my bones, feeling like a beautiful super model for the first time in my life. All of that is now taken away from me. All of it.

I think every day how I'm going to slowly work my way back to where I was. How each and every day I'll get closer and closer to my goal weight. It's so far away, but it isn't impossible. I've almost been there - I was only 7 pounds away when I stopped starving. I had almost made it.

Yes, those two perfect little numbers stick out in my head each and every day, and every time I think about reaching those numbers, I remember that wonderful man I was talking about a couple days ago. I think about his opinion on how I look NOW, compared to when I was starving. And you know what? Being thin really isn't worth losing such a wonderful relationship. It just isn't. Because that's what would happen if I starved again - I'd drift away just like I did before. I did it with everyone, not just him. And I don't want to lose him or anyone else.

So point is, I think about starving all the time. And when I skip meals, it makes it particularly difficult, because then I get a taste of the feeling again - I start to remember why I had that feeling all the time. I start to remember what I looked like because I let myself get that hungry, and I want it. I want it so bad. But not as much as I want my wonderful, sexy English Llama, I'll tell you that. Looking like a skeleton is just not worth what I'd lose to get there.

So here I am - still trying my best to fight Anna, and come out strong and recovered. And in just a few days, I will be fighting with all I've got. I'll be back in the real world, with the centre, and my support group. I'll be back in recovery world. And I need that. A vacation is strangely not what I needed - although I've enjoyed it, I think it was too soon to leave the centre and venture out on my own. I wasn't ready. But alas, my journey is almost over, and I will be back on the road to recovery again in no time. Which means I'll be one step closer to fucking Anna's shit up. The stupid bitch won't even know what hit her.

Consuming me like an unstoppable black hole, you,...have become my life

I find myself saying this a lot, but I really am sorry for the lack of updates. It's just, when I have stuff to write about, it's usually never good, and I have so much to say...it's just annoying. But I promise, I'll try and update you guys more often. Really.

Anyway, today I thought I'd write about anorexia. My mum is convinced I don't have it. Even though she had thought I did before, she says she doesn't now. Well, I agreed. But have now found my mind changing to disagreement. Why? Because I decided to really find out, and research it this morning. I looked at symptoms, signs, all of that. And guess what? I've got every bit of them. There was even something on the list that was so shocking, but explained so fucking much. I mean, god.

Okay, first, the shocking thing I found on the list that explains so much. I circled it on the list below:


I had no way of understanding my wish to cook for people all the time - find nice recipes and make them. Feed people. Look through cooking magazines/visit cooking sites. This explains so much, and I think it's so weird how it's tied to anorexia. How, it seems like, everything I do now, is tied to anorexia. I have every symptom/sign on that list. Which has now forced me to believe I am anorexic. I didn't think so before reading these, but now...I mean, if I wasn't anorexic, I wouldn't have all the symptoms.

I am eating three meals, but they are small. I can control my breakfast and lunch, so I try to eat as little as possible because I have no idea how much food I'll have to eat at night. I stay hungry - which to me, is fantastic. There have only been two nights that I ate so much I wasn't hungry anymore. And I was miserable. I cried, my stomach hurt...it was a feeling I never want again.

I am also still over-exercising. I look in the mirror so many times a day, that I can't even count anymore, and you know what I always see? Fat. Just fat. All the time. I'm never thin enough, I always see fat, and ugly. You can see my ribs, chest bones, collar bones, hip bones - you can feel all them, and you can feel my bum bone if I sit on your lap. I get told I look skeletal, and anorexic, and terrible, and too thin...yet all I see is fat. And how I'd look so much better if I ate a little less. But not being in control of dinner completely hinges that. So I simply do as much as I can before dinner time. Then I exercise dinner off afterwards. It's the only way I'll feel satisfied enough. Last night I went to bed hungry, and happy. I was ecstatic. I lay in bed at night and stroke my hip bones, feel my chest bones...I'm so warped. I know. But I just...I don't know.

All day today I've been having flash backs from when I was like 11, and how terrified I was of becoming anorexic then...and how that, one time, I looked in the mirror, and saw a morbidly obese me staring back.And then I cried. And also how I was so terrified, that I couldn't eat for a few days. I had practically stopped eating because I was so worried I'd become anorexic, that I felt sick, and couldn't eat! God. I have literally struggled with my weight and appearance ever since I was like, 9 years old. It just didn't get to this point until 14...which, thank god it didn't start any sooner.

Then I think about how disappointed my dad would be in me right now...every time I exercise, every time I feel that burn in my chest, a sign I can't take what I am doing, yet I still keep on going...I know he'd have had a fit seeing me looking like this if he was still here. He thought I was too thin before he died, and I was eating normally then. So imagine what he'd say now...he'd get pissed off, and probably blame my mum - which this is certainly not her fault.

I don't know, it's all just so hard. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm very happy at the moment, really, I am. It's just...tiring sometimes, ya know? It consumes my thoughts, my body, my day...anorexia has taken over me, and I love it. I allow it. I welcome it. It makes me happy to go to bed hungry, and to eat, then walk away knowing I'm still hungry. It also makes me happy to exercise so hard that I end up shaking afterwards, then knowing I'm just going to do more later. It fills me with joy to feel that burn in my legs when I walk up the stairs - that burn that makes me feel as if I will collapse right then and there. It lets me know that I am doing things right. Well, right in my distorted view of what's right. Others' would say it's sick, and wrong. I started worrying when I couldn't feel that burn anymore though. When I wasn't as in pain as I used to be when working out hard.

Ugh, I don't know. I'm so happy, but there is no doubt about it. No denying it. No covering it up anymore, because people can see me. I am anorexic, and it is my life. It has consumed me, and I'm happy about that. That sounds so wrong, but god it feels so right.