Recovery never, ever comes in the form of one sweeping instance or motion. In fact, from my experience, I've found that it comes to you in bits and pieces. You get it in the little things. It's not usually the big revelation we think it should be. After all, something as life-altering even lifesaving as much as this seems as though it should be huge?

But that's not usually the case, I've found.

I've always seen my eating disorder (metaphorically) as me walking around with my eyes closed. Oblivious to the outside world, the possibilties. The only thing I can see are the destructive thoughts and feelings from inside. When I catch little glimpses of some sign of coming back to health, becoming "normal" again, I like to call them "blinks".

I just recently had an extremely profound blink last week, the day before my birthday.

I had gone jet skiing for the first time with a friend. And I have to tell you it was....just exhilerating. And I almost swear...for a few hours, a few wonderful hours, it was as if I had forgotten about my body, or food, or my eating disorder. It wasn't an issue. The water, the wind in my hair, holding on to the jet ski tight enough, not crashing, screaming with joy when we jumped a wave, dipping my feet into the water...that was all I had time or the need to focus on.

I guess the extremity and the adreniline I had was enough to make me feel like I was blurring the lines between life and death. Like my life was truly in my hands...yet not really. I guess...dare I say it, in a way, for a few short moments I had found something to replace the feeling my eating disorder gave me.

It was spectacular.

The thing is though, I'm NOT better. As soon as we got in the car on the drive home, I wrapped a towel around myself and shook my head "no" to offers for dinner. I was in no way changed by the experiance...and yet, I am.

It was just a mere blink of what life in the outside world is like...but I will never forget what I saw. It gives me hope that recovery is not impossible, just hard. And worth the fight.

That day I realized that something, besides hurting myself, gave me pleasure. Something, besides food, gave me fear. Something besides my eating disorder made me feel.

That day I even entertained the thought that there are better things out there than an eating disorder to die for. And definitely better things out there to live for.

I have had nothing but a dinner at the Olive Garden today, one that I didn't even finish. One that probably wasn't very full of calories or fat, just mainly carbs. But my stomach is bloated and I can't explain why I am so...so freaking angry and sad right now to anyone. This has started to take even more of a toll on my relationships.

It used to be, there were a few select people who could get to know a fraction of the real me. Now, I can't even tell the truth or say what's hurting, what's happening even if I try. I am afraid of myself. I am so afraid of my stomach, and it's control over me. My control problem's control over me is what's scary too.

I have had to stop myself five times, getting out paper and a pen and fishing through the cupboards to calculate and plan out a (very, very small) food plan for tomorrow. I know if I want to be healthy I have to try, so I won't. But I swear it feels like somethings strangling itself to death inside me. I'm afraid of eating too much tomorrow. I can't fall asleep without knowing what I'm going to eat.

I want to do better than I did today. I want to do better.

There is so much want, want, want in my life.

Why do I want and want and ignore and abuse the things in life that I need?

I just can't put into words right now how upset I am at myself for the bloated size of my stomach right now. And how I upset I am that I care in the first place. I am just so sick of me. I don't understand how anyone puts up with me. I don't think I barely can anymore.