A Promise for Next Year

I feel so disgusting.  I had a stretch of about a week or maybe even more where I felt good, strong, fit, almost comfortable, but yesterday and especially today have been terrible as far as body image.  Look at that gut!  If that face got any rounder I'd be a Cabbage Patch kid.  And H. wants me to gain how much more weight?  She has been hanging out with crazy people for way too long.

Do I realize these thoughts are irrational and unproductive?  Yes.  Does that stop me from obsessing over them? No.  Does it make any sense? No-but since when has that mattered?

I guess I'm just frustrated because I know, with every fiber of my being, that losing weight will not make me happy.  Being controlled by the ED is miserable, terrible, and incredibly wasteful of time, energy, and potential.  I'm supposed to be moving past that.  I could say I'm on the edge between bad and good, dark and light, ED and 'real life,' but I don't really think there's an "edge," it all seems very blurry right now.  I'm still obsessing just as much as I did X pounds ago, and I don't like it.  

I'm supposed to work on identifying triggers, according to H.  I haven't had a therapy session in two weeks, because H. was a at a conference and then out of town for a family emergency.  I don't really think lack of therapizing is the cause, though.  One possibility: I have never thought that I am very "triggerable" when it comes to seeing pictures, but I accidentally came across a bunch of "thinspiration" pictures the other day (I do NOT visit pro sites, I never have, the pics were posted on a site that is supposed to be recovery-positive), and those images kept coming back to my mind today when I was sitting in class loathing the feeling of my body.  Blah.  My knees and ankles are absolutely shot right now, but I still did did extra workouts just because I needed to vent and had this self-hatred thing going, I just wanted to sweat, pound, burn everything out of myself. 

Second possibility: weather has been gloomy for a couple of days, and that always makes my mood and general outlook on life plummet.  Woot for S.A.D.  

Third: maybe I am just really, really bad at this whole recovery thing.

So, because I routinely break private promises to myself and a public resoluton will help to keep me at least somewhat more accountable:

Dear Cammy,

Next year you are not allowed to spend your birthday behaving, thinking, or in any way resembling the way you spent today.  

That is all.

C.