This morning I can feel myself wanting to not eat like this anymore. But, as my eating disorder is wont to do, it’s making me feel as though I can’t stop. It’s as though I need one last “hurrah” to get it out of my system.

I hate it but I’ve been telling myself that Wednesday is the deadline to get back on track because 2 years ago, my successful attempt began on a Wednesday. Meaningless, arbitrary, yet compelling to my disordered mind.

Wednesday I will go back to the reasonable eating plan I’d been happily existing on for the the past year, protein, non-starchy vegetables, 1 serving of fruit a day.

But today seems to be all about the crap. It’s like I’m having to get rid of the crap first by eating it.

When my husband and I were first dating he smoked cigarettes. They were expensive and he didn’t have a lot of money so I figured out a way to order them for him from some place where he was able to get them in bulk for a lot less money.

See what an enabler I am?

Anyway, he’d gotten two cartons and at about the halfway point in the first carton he got sick with bronchitis and it lingered and turned into a chest infection and after about a month he was finally on the mend thanks to some serious anti-biotics and some prescription level narcotic cough syrup. Then his doctor scared him by requesting a chest x-ray. When he asked why a chest x-ray the doctor replied that he wanted to rule out emphysema. Shocked and chagrined my husband was at work the next day and started to light up his first cigarette since he’d been sick. He got it out of the pack and as he put it between his lips to light it he thought to himself, “What am I doing?” Then he went and flushed it and the rest of the pack down the toilet. He came home that night and threw away the carton and a half of unsmoked cigarettes. He hasn’t smoked again in 15 years.

Ok. That’s not me. At the time I remember gaping at him. “Why don’t you smoke them first and then quit?” I actually asked him that. He looked at me like I was insane. Because he was ready to quit. Without having smoked in a month the physical addiction to the nicotine was broken and he didn’t have any other emotional or psychological addiction to smoking. To him, the time to start is “now”, not “later, after I’ve made it worse”.

For me I have to run myself into the ground… feel like I’ve hit a bottom. I have to thoroughly hate myself for what I’m doing to myself before I can wrest myself away from my inner addict and start treating myself nicely again… and stop acting out the addict’s every wish.

I actually hid a piece of cake in my pocket on Sunday and ran and errand and ate it in the car.

This is sickness.

This is addiction.

This morning I’ve actually made a pile of the things I need to eat today before I chuck it all and wipe the slate clean tomorrow. In psychological terms it’s called “The Fatigue Method”.

This is sickness.

This is addiction.

While I’m in recovery my addiction is in the corner doing push-ups. Getting stronger.

Every relapse is harder because the addiction is stronger.

Someone in a meeting once said that when you pick up again it’s not like the first time. It’s as bad as if you’d kept on going in all that intervening time. That’s how it feels.

I think I was foolish to think those couple of weeks of “food sobriety” I was able to pull together in January wasn’t part of this relapse. This relapse started before Christmas. This relapse has been driven by my anxiety and depression. They aren’t lifting and neither is this relapse.

I know what I “should” do. I should follow tomorrow’s plan today.

But I can’t.

All I can do is try my hardest not to hate myself too much today so that when tomorrow comes I have a fighting chance. Because if I fight myself all day today then I’ll have nothing left to give tomorrow when the white knuckling starts.

Somewhere in me is strength.

I just pray I can find it.