Current mood:	contemplative
Current music:	Three Days Grace - Riot

Persistant little bugger, that.
The restrictive thoughts are creeping in more and more.  When it comes to being that time to eat, I start thinking "Maybe not... I should put it off..."  So far I have been thwarted by Grandma and Bob, but the thoughts are multiplying.  "Just say you're not hungy... Say you've already eaten... or just eat less..."  To tell the truth my bulimia has gotten better.  Well, I'm purging less anyway.  Its gotten down to once a day lately.  And the popup game begins - thats why the restrictive thoughts come up more... when I purge less, or when I have less opportunity to purge.  The anorexia and bulimia are a tag-team that always gets the better of me.

I was reading one of my favorite short stories, about this alcoholic who overcomes his addiction, and in it he describes how no one ever gives up an addiction because someone else wants them to.  It doesnt work when you're forced or coerced into sobriety.  In a way, I was forced.  It was by accident that my other life was revealed.  If I hadnt been so sick with flu as to go to the emergency room...  I was, in essence, forced to go to McCallum.  What else was I suppose to do?  My secret was out.  I admitted I was sick and the next step was treatment, whether I really wanted it or not.  I was torn on that issue.  Part of me hated the life I was living - doing desperate things to support the massive ammounts of food I was buying, purging up to fifteen times a day.  But a bigger part of me, and I know it was mostly my ED, loved the results - I was thin!  For the first time in my life I wasnt the fat girl.  No one could tease me anymore, I could walk confidently, I could wear clothes I never could before, I could wear a swimsuit, I liked my body for once.  For once in my life I felt comfortable, for the most part, in my own skin.  I  had never felt that before.

So I suppose thats what makes it so hard for me.  I may be exposed, but my Ed is still fighting.  Just now everyone around me knows about the fight.  Secretly I'm cheering for my friends of three years now.  Secretly I dont want to stop.  Secretly I want to go back to how it was when my Ed first developed, when I could go days without food.  But none of that is a secret here.

I expect the voice to get louder and persistant, and I expect, as my weight continues to teater around where it is, that I will be more inclined to listen.  But at the moment, I'd prefer it that way.