It’s been a while, and there is a reason for that. A few things happened in succession that took over:

I started my new job and I have been caught up with that.

I had my last weekly appointment with my therapist and won’t see her for another month: this means I am in recovery

I have an email in my inbox from the dietitian asking if I can come for a review in 2 weeks.

I could just stop now and pretend it’s all over, it was an episode that has now concluded. I was depressed and not eating. I’m ok now.

I don’t want to go to the dietitian appointment because I know that I have only gained less than a kilo. I weigh myself every morning and it’s still in a place where I feel ok (50kg). Yesterday I was 51 kg and it coloured my whole day. So I wouldn’t say things are ok here, not at all.

But maybe 50kg is where it is going to stay. As I’ve said before- it’s reasonably healthy and it’s enough food to sustain me. Whatever I’m bored with it.

Things are ok mood wise. The new job is all consuming but relatively stress free so far. I need to try and keep it that way. Already I’m not taking breaks and staying late but that is what my new boss does so I feel I have to follow suit. Or I could be mature and strong about it and let him know what way I will do things. I need to do this otherwise I will be heading down danger road again. The depression and sick leave from work seems like a distant memory now. It’s almost like I can’t comprehend it. But it could happen again. It happened once so it could happen again and I need to make sure it does not.

Or I could just pretend it ever happened and move on?

Two steps forward…one step back

I don’t even want to write but I am going to try to, instead of going upstairs to wake my husband up and tell him how crap I feel.

It’s morning here in London. My neighbours have already left for work- my train goes soon. 

I don’t want to go, have to go, can’t drag enough energy to go.

Last night I purged. In the shower. Why? No I hadn’t binged. I just felt full. Uncomfortably full because maybe I’m not used to eating a normal amount. 

In the shower? Desperately washing away bits of food. Bulimia is dirty. It’s a stain. I’m ashamed. There was an episode a few days ago too. Slipping back in, to that bastard state. 

I have a job to go too. I start a new job in a few weeks. I don’t have room for bulimia and food restriction and size 2 jeans and infertility. 

Relapse. Exhausting and annoyingly predictable.