As much as I want to be OK, the reality is far different. I’m strongly considering seeking residential treatment for Bulimia Nervosa again. And this is difficult to admit, in addition to being shameful, especially in the face of trying to convince myself of my own recovery.
So much of the progress I made since the final month of 2016 was undone. When I tug, the root of reinfection seems to be the assault I experienced right before Christmas, but a number of things have occurred since that certainly made it more difficult to kill the reemergence of compulsive disordered eating patterns. On one hand, I feel like a failure. On the other, I know that BN and other eating disorders are not always conquered so quickly. Either way, it’s difficult to see the emotional resilience and tolerance I worked hard to cultivate become thin, to wane.
There’s nothing beautiful that I can write about this illness, but I can use words that bring honesty to the current state of my life.