boiling an ani

I want to go back, I really do. I want to be who I was before. It feels contrite to say I'm going to start again, after all when did I ever stop and when was the last day I didn't start again?

I really should have kept this blog up these past few months so I could have used it as a map of the path never to go down again. Since last we spoke I've doubled the weight I've put back on. In fact I don't know what I weigh right now but it's closer to my heaviest than to my lightest. I wish I'd kept a blog while the 60odd kilos were coming off, you'd have seen a very different me.

My anxiety levels have soared and my disordered eating gone completely out of control. I have been known to wonder incredulously how I could possibly keep hurting myself so blatantly. It was like I kept putting my hand in a fire then would look to other people in pain to say 'stop me doing that, it hurts!' Problem is it's not a fire that burns instantly. The relief and numbness the food brings is instantaneous, but the pain it causes takes time. It's more like boiling a frog, by the time the heat's risen to the point of pain I've grown too accustomed to it to consider stopping.

So, here I am. I've never stopped trying but I've also never stopped beating myself up and self-destructing. This has to change.