Tired.

It's been a trying few days. To say the very least. I'm not sure why, either, I've just been emotionally rollercoastering it since around Sunday night to the point where I'm ready to kick myself in the head just to stop it from reeling so much.

I'm not a very angry person. Or, rather, I have a tendency to get exceptionally angry exceptionally fast, but given I have no freakin' idea how to channel it, it just turns inwards and explodes. Thus explaining my terrible, terrible body image this week and the re-emergence of a whisper of what was once my very loud, very menacing eating disorder voice.

This really scares me. Terrifies me. Beyond comprehension. Last time I delved into recovery, the seven month mark was the end. I said, 'the hell with it,' and gave up.

Before Philly, I never really learned how to live. I thought treatment would cure me. I thought if someone fed me for long enough, I'd get the hang of it, and I'd be able to cruise on through life like nothing had ever happened. Not quite.
I learned what living looked like. I went through the motions. I woke up everyday, ate my breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and went to bed. Those three meals were exhausting enough to leave me with nothing inbetween. It wasn't until I found my way to Philadelphia that I not only learned what living looked like, but also what it felt like, and what it felt like to live well. I've come to notice there is a significant difference between simply living and living happily, and living without tethers, which is what I have been doing for the past 7 months. But, I cannot deny that this does not scare the absolute fucking bejesus out of me.

I've had these seven months before. And, I've had them mean nothing in a matter of minutes. It's too easy. It's a lot of pressure to put on myself to say things like, 'I can't slip,' or even 'I won't slip,' because things happen, and it's not unrealistic. But, I'm terrified at the thought. I know purging doesn't sound appealing to most people. It honestly doesn't really sound very attractive to me a large majority of the time either. But, after that purge is a relief I can get from nothing else and relief I have sought in anything and everything I could. I know I won't purge. I know myself. I know my strength and my ability to counteract this voice in my head and I know, wholeheartedly, that I can say no. But, there is a piece of me that understands why I would want to and why I have in the past. Because it has brought me quiet. Perhaps not peace, but silence, numbness, isolation. A sheer moment where everything was blank enough for me to forget. Sometimes I need that moment.
But, I can't have it. I need to keep telling myself that.

Life is frustrating. That's its nature. I can't expect anything else. I have to make do with what I'm given, what I have, and what comes at me. And, I have faith that I will.

Tomorrow I have to march my ass into the registrar's office and cause a motherfuckin' scene and a half because I refuse to register with freshmen. I am above that and I will not tolerate Wagner's incompetency. I won't freak out (mainly because I did already), but I will stand my ground if nothing else. I just hope I don't kill anyone.

On that note. I think I'm off to bed. My sister's here and I'm so glad. I love her.
And I have therapy and group tomorrow. Thanks be to fucking sweet Jesus above because I am about a nanosecond away from losing my motherfuckin' mind over here without therapy for like, three weeks. Just goes to show medication isn't everything! Teehee.
night.