Do you ever wish you could just hold on to dieting for a little bit longer?
Just until you’re back at your pre-recovery weight.
But this isn’t dieting, is it?
Years of obsessively counting and weighing and fasting and exercising is not dieting.
Sitting on the floor crying after successfully purging is not dieting.
Even if your mind keeps saying you can be normal after you’re done putting yourself through hell.
Even if it tries to convince you to just put off your recovery for a month or 2 until you’re where you should be.
But, it’s not just a diet.
And you can’t keep putting it off.
The feeling you get when you want to speak and you don’t know what to say, or how to say it.
Being at a loss for words has been something I’ve struggled with throughout my depression.
Silence brushes over you like the water caressing your feet at the beach while you just sit and stare off into the distance.
But the words won’t come.
Speaking feels impossible.
Hell, opening your mouth feels impossible.
The most you can muster is, “I’m fine”.
Because nothing else feels quite right.
The silence is deafening and comforting, all at once.
No one seems to understand, so you keep the words trapped in your head.
Trapped in your depression.