Words mean things.

Words, words, words.
Sometimes they come freely, other times they don't. Usually when I need them most, they manage to find a nice little hidey-hole inside my head and refuse to come out. They also shy away when I try to say how thankful I am to have such amazing people in my life.
Thank-you's are the hardest things of all to say, after goodbye's. I cannot, and will not ever be able to express my appreciation for the kindness and support you have all shown me. Waking up in the morning to an inbox full of heart-warming messages has the ability to set the mood for the day. Whenever I feel like my confidence, happiness and positivity is slipping, I turn to your words.
It is utterly incredible how much a few written sentences has the power to turn a tearful sob into a tearful smile. Without you girls, I dread to think and refuse to think of where I would be.
Alright, enough of the sappy Eleanor!

What is also utterly incredible is how an appointment has the power to turn a weekend into a nightmare. Tomorrow is Saturday. And Saturday is Dietitian DoomsDay. This week has been crazy in the lead up to school, and knowing that the Saturday before school returns is the day I have to step on the scales, well... It doesn't "set the right mood" for the weekend, if you know what I mean. The word relaxation doesn't come to mind. Way to end a week-end.
Ah, crap. I'm being cynical. When I'm in a bad mood my sarcasm takes centre stage. My sacrastic words have the ability to make walls crumble and hearts break... And tearducts weep.

As always, the days preceding my Dietitian appointment are full of anxiety. My eating gets thrown around - recently I've been cutting out foods, then trying to make up for them later on, then feeling bad about it, then freaking out because I think I ate too much, then cutting out later... A cycle, and a vicious one. I hate having to be weighed, and that number dictating in which direction my life goes. I want it to be up, so that nothing else is added to my meal plan, but I dont want to be up, because that feeling of "fat" is just overwhelming. Rational Eleanor is trying to sooth the Panicked Eleanor. The ED-Eleanor is trying to disrupt the Rational-Eleanor and abusing the Eleanor Eleanor. There are too many people in my head, when there should be just one.

I'm sick and tired of having these voices shouting at me, and I'm sick and tired of fighting with myself. I'm also sick and tired of the pressure and expectation being put on me to "just gain weight" and to "just get better". If it was that easy, I wouldn't be in this situation!

I don't really know where my words are taking me right now. My head is full of everything at the moment and sorting it out would take too long. So, I will leave you with a bit of an email I recieved from a friend of mine that I met on my stay in hospital. It really put me in a positive frame of mind.

We don't deserve to be miserable! We deserve to eat wonferful food without a voice telling us that we are fat or that we have to exercise now to work it off, because we "don't deserve it". We should appreciate what we have of life because we never know when our time will be up. Why let an illness kill us when we can prevent it? Yes, it is a hard and long process, but we will get there! We will be happy and healthy!
We can support each other, but in the end it is down to us, individually, to kick its ass!
Nobody, nobody deserves to live like this, so let's beat this.
Together we will STAND TALL and say "WE BEAT ANOREXIA".

Dietitian DoomsDay tomorrow. But what happens, happens, and I can only move onward and upward from there.

Let's stand tall, let's fight. Let's beat anorexia.

love, love, love.