Ambivalent

... is a good word for how I feel about recovery right now.

... is not a good place to be when I am still very early in my recovery and still medically compromised.

I fly back from visiting my parents early tomorrow. I worked very hard to take care of myself while I was with them and now I feel worn out. Recovery is hard. I want a vacation. Body image sucks. Not being hungry isn't normal to me; it's uncomfortable, foreign, and scary. Not being hungry is like suddenly having to write with your non-dominant hand, only with an added element of anxiety and unease.

It would be so easy, habitually speaking, to go back to restricting. I know exactly what to do and exactly how to do it. And it would feel so intoxicatingly good. Relaxing. Comforting. Like everything's right with the world; nothing is being ruined by food or weight gain; I'm not contaminating my body with calories or grease. So nice and empty.

I don't want to think about what a bad idea this would be. I want to wrap myself in a nice dark blanket of denial and shut my eyes. I don't want to have to deal with learning to perform the most basic, elementary, cognitive and social functions without an eating disorder. I want an excuse for why I'm not perfect. And at the same time, I want that excuse to provide me with a guarantee that I am always one step closer to perfection as long as I stay on the same self-destructive path. It's contradictory -- "I'm not perfect because starving myself hinders me, but if I keep starving myself I'll become perfect" -- but I don't need it to make sense to believe it. I just need it to make me feel secure.

I am pathetic. From the outside looking in, no one would ever guess I'm this childish. On paper, I look so self-sufficient. On the inside, I feel so weak and needy. And I hate it.