She's Done It.

I did it.

I DID IT.

She walked to the car, her stomach convulsing violently. Never before had she suffered from nerves such as these. Doubt was swimming in her head, the little voice chanting "You're a failure, you didn't gain the weight. But you're a fatty anyway. You think you can beat me? You think you can ignore me? You don't stand a chance. You're nothing!" She sat quietly in the back seat of the car, staring blankly out the window but not looking for anything; she only wanted to escape, to crawl up inside herself and give in to the convincing voice she knew so well.

The car stopped and her father opened the door for her. Without looking up, without speaking, she walked to the building inside which her fate lay. The big, cold, hard medical scales were waiting for her - she had an intense fear, an intense hate for those scales, unsurprisingly so, as they had the ability to dictate her mood, and the overall feelings of both parents and treatment team.

The click-clack of her Dietitian's shoes on the tiled floor of the walkway tore through her state of mental numbness, and she robotically stood up and forced a painful smile upon her lips. The walk to the room gave the voices in her head a chance to blast obsceneties at her; little knives jabbing into her heart.

She sat down in the chair beside the scales, where she voiced her concerns about not having gained weight the past week, but also told of her challenges and her trials, her sickness and her exhaustion, her battles to do the right thing. Her nerves heightened, her stomach was clenched; she took off her shoes and stepped on the scale.

Numbers numbers numbers, ticking ticking ticking.

Surprise.

* * *

I gained weight.

 I gained weight, by myself.

I gained weight by myself, for myself.

To be honest, I don't know how I feel. It's 7 at night now, I was weighed at 9:30 this morning. I've had all day to process my thoughts, but I have yet to come to a solid conclusion. I don't know how I feel, I don't know how I should feel. I was convinced I'd lost weight, and I expected to see a drop in weight, but instead I was greeted with an 800 gram (2 pound) gain.

I felt proud.

I also felt disgusted.

Almost a kilogram in a week? That's a lot. That's a scary amount of weight. That's the biggest amount I've gained in a long time. A long, long time. And I did it myself. I didn't depend on anyone else. This was my doing.

I want to feel proud of myself. I want this to strengthen my mental state, my confidence - I want it to boost my self-esteem and give me a real sense of control. Instead I'm confused, uncertain, and conflicted.

I know that I can't stop here. I have to keep going upwards for the time being. There's no other option for me health-wise... But I have the choice to go up, or to stop trying.

I've scared myself.

But I know what needs to be done.

I need to live.

love, love, love.