Lost myself, and I'm no where to be found

Help, I have done it again. I have been here so many times before...

I used to listen to those songs, so often. Back when all of this was a game, and I tried to make it fun. When I was proud of myself for not eating. It never lasted.

I used to listen to those songs when I was screaming silently, crying myself to sleep. When I'd use broken hangers to slice my skin. When I had vodka and pills and didn't understand why I'd still woken up the next morning.

Hurt myself again today, and the worst part is there's no one else to blame.

I don't listen to those songs anymore. I don't read the books. I find it hard to read back, to the person I used to be. It all took on such a sinister edge. It consumed me.

ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME ME.


Now I have my daughter. She's two soon. She's perfect. She's all I need.

So why have I been throwing up?

So why have I been binging?

I used to think that I could just switch off these feelings whenever I wanted to. That, if I really decided that's what I wanted to do, I could eat and feel good about myself.

The worst part of believing your own lies, is that once you realise, the only person you allowed yourself to trust becomes the biggest liar you've ever known.

So who do I turn to now?

Shhh.

It's a niggle. A secret.
It's a whisper that carries you away. A voice sweeping through you.

It's doubt. It's shame.
It's all a horrific game that threatens to consume you.
It's a double life, but you can't choose which to live. It isn't a choice.

It's fear. You can't stand the not knowing.
You can't help feeling every little bit. Questioning everything around you.
It's always there. It doesn't matter how many times you try to run,
because it runs just as fast.

It runs faster. Overtakes you.
Consumes you.

Until running just isn't an option anymore.
Though, it never was, was it?

And in a heart beat, it's all back, threatening to overwhelm you.

But you can't show anyone. You can't tell anyone.

It's our secret.

In The Background

I've been contemplating for a long time whether or not to post. It's always been in the back of my mind.

I'm better now.
I eat now.
I have an amazing daughter and a lovely husband now.
I'm happy. Most of the time.

So why do I want more? 

I crave thin. Every bite I take is calculated. Behind every snack or meal, is a head full of loathing and a need to find an excuse for why I am The Way I Am.

S says that I shouldn't be like this, that I'm grown up now, and that it's selfish.

But three years on, the thoughts are still there. It's a battle, and I don't think I'm strong enough to fight.

Only time will tell.