I am more vulnerable and more willing to let go and trust out of sheer desperation.

I don’t want to be here, eclipsed by my own harrowing thoughts.

Some sort of reprieve came this morning, though. Today was so good. I reached out and used my own strength to get through meals I know I needed, and to not run when I didn’t have enough fuel. I felt uncertain and afraid but ok about these decisions. I started to feel empowered by them, in fact. I began to believe the wave of depression was lifted. I wanted to bottle the sudden freedom I was feeling from the black clouds that preceded.

Then, I felt hurt by the dumbest thing and immediately turned on myself. I am forever incapable of handling my negative emotions. Suddenly and intensely: I am a terrible, lazy human for not running today. For eating adequate meals. For adding cheese to my egg whites. For having a date night and eating things outside my comfort zone. Suddenly, I don’t deserve to be loved, all I can see is my own body fat everywhere, and I am simmering with self-hate.

I can see this is getting me nowhere, but I am in too much pain to entertain logic and truth and reality. The thing that brings some peace is that I can fix this tomorrow. I can run tomorrow, and eat healthier tomorrow (much much less), and… when am I not going to need to use my eating disorder as an emotional crutch? Because it feels like never. There isn’t anything else that settles the sharp sting of emotional uproar.