Let's Be Real.

Really.  I'm always going to be either a bulimic, or a recovered bulimic.  When I go for days with great leaps ahead, I almost stop thinking of myself that way.  And then there is some trigger.  I don't mean to, I really don't.  But I find myself starving, fighting off the hunger with those old anorexic mantras, the reminders from my ED to my self that it's whittling me away, that being hungry (and the headaches and weakness associated) is a good thing and that I'm better for it.

But ED is wrong.  Wrong wrong wrong.

Because that hunger and self control brings a need to replenish, and that hole seems endlessly deep.  And even if the binge isn't the whole-jar-of-jam-2-boxes-of-crackers-a-container-of-ice-cream-and-some-chocolate kind of size, even if it's just eating the whole package of M&Ms instead of the half you promised yourself to rid yourself of the carb-less-body headache, and even if the purge is itty bitty, it's still the numb, sad, caved-in feeling that comes no matter what.

Fear.  Stress.  Homesickness.  Memories.

Having to tell people over and over again that your summer was 'wonderful', which indeed it was, but it was so much more than just wonderful!  And how can one express the depths of the emotion experienced, the bridges built, the connections made, the hearts entwined, the family found, the satisfaction and terror and wonder and chaos of the kind of summer I had?  How to express it in a catchy little answer?

And so my heart sinks deep within itself and asks itself to tell me, and when I do, I find myself so very alone, and M&Ms are then the 'wonderful' thing.

Starting back at Day One once again.