I don’t want my recovery journey to sound easy. Three reasons why.
1. Because it’s not.
2. Because I want to be honest.
3. Because I want those that are struggling to know that I totally get it. I know how brutal a mental illness is.
Today was that day.
My stomach was bloated as hell. I couldn’t feel satisfied after every meal; I found myself frustrated and just sick and tired of having constant mental turmoil.
It would be easier to give in to the temptations.
But what would happen after that? If I did take laxatives.
‘One more time’ is inviting ED back permanently. There is never one more time.
The first time I was was very hard. The most I ever took was about 60 laxatives. This time around it was very, very serious. I got up to over 250 laxatives.
If I relapse, the cycle will start all over again. And I would probably end up taking 300+ laxatives.
I wanted to give up. But I cannot give up. I will not give up. I will fight and fight my ass off. ED’s voice is powerful. You have to let him know that he’s not in charge.
In order to change you have to change.
I look at the big picture. I look at my family and friends and the amazing people they are. I look at the life I have. That’s the big picture. That’s what matters.
WHO FUCKING CARES?
That does that impact how I am as a person?
Does that mean people won’t like me anymore? Does that mean I become a horrible person?
It is me and only me that cares if I’m bloated. And so what?
So fucking what!
Yes – laxatives would take the edge off and certainly make me end the mental turmoil.
But it will also give me a death sentence.
I wanted to take them today. Sorry. ED wanted me to take them today.
As I’ve said many times, his voice is loud. But mine is louder. And today I was screaming right back at him telling ED to FUCK right off,