Monster.

Remember when you were a kid, and you were convinced that there was a monster living under your bed? And no matter how many times your mum or dad looked under your bed and said "See? No monster here!" you sincerely believed you could hear it, and almost feel it lurking, waiting for a limb to dangle down past the safety of the matress to grab hold of you and pull you under. That monster kept you awake at night, because you feared that if you fell asleep, or if you dared peek out from under your blankets, it would eat you. But to save yourself, you ran to your parents bedroom and hid in the comfort of their bed. You were protected. You could run from that monster, and it couldn't follow you.
I have my very own monster. But not the monster that lives under your bed. My very own monster lives inside my head. Unlike when I was young and could run away, this monster follows me. Day and night, it's always there. Following me, haunting me, scaring me, hurting me.
I wish my monster lived under my bed, so I could run away and hide from its evil. My monster knows all my thoughts, all my fears, all my feelings. My monster envelopes my every thought.

This monster, it lurks in the back of my mind,
waiting for an opportune moment to grab me and pull me under.
Just like the bed-monster waiting for a stray limb.
My monster, however, doesn't go away.
My monster is with me, every day.
I can't run, I can't hide, I can't turn on a light,
It's with me, always, every day and every night.

My mind's been all over the place lately. The holidays are here now, and I've found myself at a loss for what to do. I feel like I don't have any purpose, almost like I have no reason or nothing to get up for in the morning. I wake up dreading the day ahead of me. I know that when I get out of bed, my breakfast is waiting for me. I'm still scared of food, and I know that's not rational. A fear of food? What kind of lunatic is afraid of food? I'm absolutely terrified of my dietitian appointment on Saturday morning, and that's a full 3 days away. After that, I don't see her for at least a month over the Christmas break... I'm scared that she's going to keep me on the same meal plan and that when I get weighed next I'm going to be at a huge weight.
Fears. Scared. Weight. Food. Fat. Sizes. Numbers.
Such... Trivial things, such unimportant things. And that's what's swamping my mind.

I feel like my parents are doing the recovery for me, and I'm just being dragged along on a rope behind them. My heart isn't in it. ED keeps telling me I don'tneed to get better or don't deserve to get better. That I'm not even sick enough to have to get better. It's really just too much.

I cannot tell you how sorry I am for being such a downer! I really want to turn this all around, and start seeing it in a new light, a positive light. Instead of this horrible "you'll get fat" blasphemy ED's been pulling on me for the past year.

Hopefully things start to turn around soon enough.

I know I have to take each day as it comes. There's no point in worrying about tomorrow when I still have to get through today. One small step after the other. No giant leaps.

When I get my head around things, my posts will start making more sense, I promise! I've been reading your blogs every day, and they've really helped me come to terms with everything. I just need to come to terms with myself and my situation. Thank you, all of you, for the amazing support and kind words. They help me get through my days. They scare away my monster.

Love, love, love.