When Progress is Not Only a Good Thing, But Also a Bad Thing a.k.a. When-Your-Worst-Nightmare-is-Relapse-You-Say-NO!

When Progress is Not Only a Good Thing, But Also a Bad Thing a.k.a. When-Your-Worst-Nightmare-is-Relapse-You-Say-NO!

This is progress.

& As weird as it sounds, it’s both a good & a bad thing.

It’s a good thing because physically:

My face is filling out.

I have cheeks again (YEP, both kinds of cheeks! On my face & my butt!).

My curves are coming back (& I’m starting to fill out those old sports bras, TMI, again!).

My arms no longer look like branches.

& I’m slowly saying goodbye to that thigh gap.

It’s also a good thing because mentally:

It means I’m facing the devil that is anorexia, every single day & slapping her in the face, left, right & center & showing her that with me, she’s fighting a USELESS battle, one that she will never win, no matter how ruthless she is & no matter how badly she doesn’t want me to devour a second raspberry muffin (let alone, a first!).

But, it’s also a bad thing.

It’s a bad thing because I wake up every morning & I look different.

I feel bloated & can hardly fit into any of my clothes.

I wake up everyday & I need to accept that I gained weight, that I will continue to, that I am no longer the thinnest girl in the room that everybody is worried sick about & that I will soon fall into the realm of being in a healthy weight range.

But, most of all, it’s bad because it is a constant reminder of how REAL the risk of relapse is & this is the scariest thing in the world.

IT’S MY WORST NIGHTMARE.

& So, this good & bad progress, this progress that is my reality means that my life these days is a constant slew of mind work.

Mind work that consists of me convincing my mind that I CANNOT TRUST SOMETHING THAT WANTS TO KILL ME.

My eating disorder is just as dangerous as a freaking serial killer.

It lies to me with promises of change, tempts me with anxiety triggers & relapse & continuously makes attempts at forcing me to fall back into her deep, dark hole & throw my progress away.

& SHE DOES THIS, EVERY SINGLE SECOND OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.

& So Anorexia, as I do a little booty shake (Yes, because I’m starting to have A BOOTY again!) in the mirror, THIS IS ME TELLING YOU TO EFF OFF.

This is me telling you that NO MATTER HOW HARD YOU TRY TO MAKE ME HATE MYSELF, MY NEW BODY & MY HEALTHY MIND THAT YOU NO LONGER CONTROL, you will not succeed.

You will not come out a winner.

No, Anorexia, you will not kill me.

Not this time around.

Not the last time.

Not ever. Never.

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