In June when my head started spinning, I kept feeding the good wolf.

Feed the good wolf.

In July when my head kept spinning, I started giving water to the bad wolf. I just sort of kept him alive.

Feed the good wolf.

In August the bad wolf ate all the good wolf’s food and the good wolf is clinging for survival.

Feed the good wolf.

I am struggling immensely with food. I thought maybe after Monday’s appointment the idea of maintaining the weight I am (was, because another pound has gone) would become okay over the course of 48 hours. It did not become okay. Literally the only way I can feel like the bad wolf hasn’t killed off the good wolf is by keeping my next appointment.

Feed the good wolf.

I thought I might black out at the track this morning. I cut the last mile repeat short because I was afraid. The ironic thing is, I’m going faster and faster and faster and running feels amazing, save for the lightheadedness. I’m sure it’s merely dehydration. Just drink more water.

Feed the good wolf. 

At the track this morning I was trying to give a simple suggestion. I repeated it TWICE. I wasn’t quiet. And NO ONE HEARD ME. Someone heard me after I said, “It’s like no one can hear me!” and joked that it was their worst nightmare to be screaming and not be heard. A wave of sadness immediately swept over me as it dawned on me–I am living that nightmare. I don’t have a voice. No one can hear me. I’m not sure what I’m figuratively trying to say but maybe it’s just easier to starve myself so I never have to figure it out. It is easier.

Feed the good wolf.

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