Talking to myself.

Recovery isn't easy. Recovery scares me. Recovery makes me hate my body even more. Recovery seems to involve lots of relapses. Recovery means somewhat losing control. Recovery will be worth it.
I always get mad at myself when I have bad days with regards to my disorder. It makes me feel weak, like I'm failing. The same way that 3 spoons of soup made me feel fat. I know the soup won't make me gain 10lbs and I know that even attempting recovery makes me strong. But the disordered thoughts, they aren't real. They just seem like it because they're inside my head. More than 3 spoons of soup will make me fat. If I drink more than 500ml of water I will gain weight. If I eat that I am going to have to hurt myself. If I eat this I'll have to restrict tomorrow. I can eat that but only if I go for a run. Thoughts aren't facts. They're not real, they're disordered. Tomorrow will be better. “Food is something I am going to have to face at least three times a day for the rest of my life. And I am not perfect. But one really bad day does not mean that I am hopeless and back at square one with my eating disorder. Olympic ice skaters fall in their quest for gold. Heisman trophy winners throw interceptions. Professional singers forget the words. And people with eating disorders sometimes slip back into an old pattern. But all of these individuals just pick themselves back up and do the next right thing. The ice skater makes the next jump. The football player throws the next pass. The singer finishes the song. And I am going to eat breakfast” Life Without Ed - Jenni S.