So today I packed a little baggie of about seven baby carrots for myself to snack on during my lunch period so that I would not get a case of dizziness or grumbling tummy and have at least something in my system.

I feel stupid because someone made a comment to me about, "well at least you're eating now." and it really got to me. I started worrying, jumping to conclusions, I suddenly felt as though everyone was watching me and talking about me eating and everyone thought I was giving in and pigging out. I know this is probably far from the truth, but my anxiety has a mind of its own sometimes.

I started thinking about how the carrots were 25 cals, and wondering if I walked up and down the hall and got a bathroom pass if I could burn it off. I took a sip of my diet coke and realized what a fool I was being. It was in that moment that I had the undying need to be normal. I wanted it so bad.

I saw my friends laughing and joking, and I joked along with them and acted like I was retarded...but my heart wasn't in it. I wonder, and am almost certain I am right, if I was the only one at the time calculating a plan on how to burn off the baby carrots I just ate. I wondered what it would be like to just...be laughing and joking and to really mean it. I wonder what a handful of baby carrots feels like when you enjoy it, when you have no idea how many calories you're eating and you don't care because it's just a handful of carrots.

I am about to go out to eat with my family. My mom said she wasn't going to invite me in the first place and said something like, "Are you going to even eat if you go?" I feel as though I have to, to prove it to myself. I am nervous but the memory of lunch today, I hope, will help me. I will be thinking of all of my fellow bloggers out there tonight. And I hope that I can enjoy my meal.

So yesterday, after my amazing "today is a new day" post, I began to consider abondoning my blog. I began to feel myself surrender willingly into my eating disorder, almost relieved, I wouldn't have to try anymore, I could get sicker and sicker and sicker and go away and never have any problems or responsiblities again. Other people could take care of me, and I could be in control of what went in and out of my body.

Instead of going with this thought, or pushing it away, I though, why? Why do I want to do this? Because it would be easy. Because it's so dissappointing to post blog after blog of 'I tried but oh well...'. Sometimes I feel so ashamed and get caught up in this limbo of not being a good enough anorexic, or not being a good enough recovering anorexic. It's so much easier to give up, give in, to stop trying because it's too hard.

I have to tell you now that I always try to make this blog inspirational, but it will also be real. I'm not going to always be in a good mood...a lot of times I turn to this blog for the moments that are so bad I have nowhere else to turn to. I won't always be doing great or on the road to recovery. But I will always try to shoot for it. Because if I give up this blog, I realize now, I'm not only giving up on you, I'm giving up on myself.

If I stop posting in here, if I stop trying to get better, it can only get worse. And yes, I won't have to take on the responsability of failure because I won't have tried. But then I will never know what it is like to succeed. If I do succeed at anorexia, I will die. If I succeed at health, I will live. It seems like a simple choice to make, but it's not.

I cannot point fingers at siblings, parenting, TV, chemicals, or therapists for this. This is me, and if this is about control, it's time I got some.