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I thought we were through...

I thought ED and I were through. I thought I was that brave, adventurous, outgoing, confident girl who was comfortable in the classroom, the kitchen and everywhere in between. I thought I could let Anorexics Who Cook morph into a new project full of hope and opportunity. I was wrong on so many counts. ED was more present this past summer than he had been in nearly a year. I'm in no better now place than I was two years ago, just less naive, less scared, less motivated to fight the good fight day after day and less hopeful that this will ever be over good.I feel like a liar, a deceptive and horrid creature. I lied to myself. Convinced myself that we were over, that I had shoved ED back into his cage, a place where he could torment me, but not tear me to shreds with his razor-sharp talons. I believed that this hell could be transient, that 18 months was long enough to "get over it." How could 18 months be long enough to rethink 20 years of disordered thinking and about seven or eight years spent dabbling with starvation? I knew I was wrong all along, but I wanted so badly to believe that I was stronger than I am, that I was braver, that I was unafraid of my own refrigerator. I wanted to believe that coffee and gum were no longer food groups, but old habits die hard.I've beaten myself up for weeks now over my negligence, the fact that this monster has once again gotten the better of me. I'm exhausted; from ED and from myself. I'm cold - I've dealt with this mess long enough to know that it simply comes with the territory. I'm scared; I'm scared of how easy it is to slip backwards, undo years of hard work. I'm scared of my own body - how much longer can it take this abuse? I'm afraid of food. I'm afraid of not making progress now and being sent to inpatient treatment. I'm guilt-ridden. I feel like the burden again: phone calls with my mum, tears, bills from doctors, nutritionists and therapists. I'll never forgive myself for what this has done to my family; for the way it has changed our relationships, our priorities, our dinners together.I wish I could say I was as dedicated to recovery now as I was when I first began this blog, but again, I cannot and, in an effort to be more honest with myself, I will not. It was easy to be committed to recovery the first time. Now I know just how difficult and scary and confusing it really is. ED and I are more closely intertwined than ever before. This said, I'm more afraid than ever about who I am without anorexia in my life. It is completely destructive, but is also my paradigm and the only way I know to interact with the world.This is not the update I'd like to provide, that's for sure. But one thing is certain: I need this outlet, I need this space to write and to process if I'm ever going to get though this round of recovery.