Late Night Ramblings

PThis will not be a coherent post. I'm giving you a glimpse into the current battle inside my head. The argument between It and Sanity.

I took this picture Saturday before work. I liked my hair and make up and wanted to send a picture to my mom. Looking in the mirror before I left I was fine. Obviously or I wouldn't have left the house. I liked the way I looked enough to take the picture. But of course, once I snapped the picture I wanted to cry. And the monster got so loud and angry telling me my face looked fat. And I kept switching between the picture and the mirror. Hoping that maybe the camera was broken. But no matter how much I hoped I just knew my cheeks were ENORMOUS. 

Of course, this was a trigger. A big one. I was cashiering which meant free food (Ahhh!) I wrestled back and forth for most of my nearly 7 hour shift on whether or not I was actually going to eat food. I ended up ordering jambalaya to go and ate it. But the guilt was overwhelming and I turned to my newest method of comfort, and punishment, for relief.

I woke up the next morning thoughts still consumed by the picture and decided to compare it to one from August- the month I was nearly hospitalized. 

Seeeee I am fat, or so the monster is trying to convince me. Ugh I am pale though I need it to be summer!

The monster is so mad. But Sanity is so much stronger than it was before and I can actually find GOOD things in the picture on the right, so long as I look at them side-by-side. 

I'm smiling in both pictures, yes, but look at my eyes- It's always the eyes that give it away. It's my eyes I always look at in the pictures I keep handy to remind myself that's what will happen if I relapse. In the picture on the left my eyes are hollow and sunken. I have circles and bags. I might as well be a zombie. Though, I'm pretty sure at that point I was. ("At least your face was skinny")

Then there's the picture on the right. I don't look dead. My eyes look happy and "sparkly". They aren't hollow or sunken in, and they look somewhat hopeful, or so I tell myself. ("Yeah but look at how chubby your cheeks are")

The war currently going on in my head is confusing. I think about letting myself relapse daily. But by the end of the day I've changed my mind. Something stops me and convinces me to eat a good dinner or enjoy an extra snack. Or even to not add up the few calories I've eaten thus far. Not that it's all perfect. I've found a new comfort/addiction. One I can't say out loud because I know the dangers. I know how bad and incredibly stupid it is. I know what happens if I don't stop. (I can't say it. Not yet. But I'm not cutting or self-harming just to clarify) I keep myself from full relapse by reminding myself that if I fall again I will just let myself hit the ground and shatter. 

But for now I just do the best I can and try to listen to my body, even if the monster says it's an idiot and doesn't know what it wants anyway. I pull up THOSE pictures to remind myself why I can't go back. And I let my mind ramble on and spam my Pinterest followers with quotes (#sorrynotsorry) and sometimes, in an attempt to make sense of it all I type and type and type random, hopefully somewhat logically blog posts. 

And as much as nights used to scare me I actually almost welcome them now.