Getting rid of small clothes

Rob was folding some laundry the other day and held up a pair of my jeans.

He sighed and said, how can you wear these pants?

I actually don’t fit into them anymore and was putting them away.  I should be donating them.

But when he held them up I could see how tiny they were.  Small.  So small.  Almost not humanlike.  A person should not fit into jeans that are so small.

Than I realized what a huge step this is.  Clothes are starting to get small on me.

Yikes, this is the first step.  My clothes aren’t fitting me the way they use to.

It’s one thing to start to make sense in my head, but to physically see the changes can be and is very difficult.

I don’t want to fit into jeans that look like an 8 year old should be wearing them, but at the same time I do.  It is what I have been use to for years and it is what I have been comfortable with.  So making physical and emotional changes are huge steps in the recovery process.  It’s at times like this, I am so tempted to just give up and do what I know.  This is exhausting.  Emotionally draining.

But I can’t.

Tyler.  Adam.  Cooper.

I have to get better.  For them.

Lisa.

I have to get better for her.  She deserves it.  She doesn’t deserve to fall asleep on the washroom floor because getting up every hour will wake her husband.  She doesn’t deserve to try and make herself vomit because eating that extra handful of popcorn makes her feel full.  Yes, that is new information to all of you.  I tried to replace one bad habit for another.  They are both awful, disgusting and will kill me.

So, for Lisa I will get better.  I will create the life she deserves.  And all of those small clothes will be put into a bag and donated to the 8 year old girl that should be wearing them.

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