Who cares? I don't.

I feel like I'm losing my grip on recovery. I hardly ate this last week and when I did I purged. There is a part of me that thinks, "this isn't good" but if I am completely honest I don't care. 

I just don't care enough to want to try to get better. I know that this next week I won't eat again or I'll eat the bare minimum. Its Thanksgiving coming up, but I don't know if I'll even get to go home to see my family so just like last year I will probably spend the holiday alone, fasting and exercising.  Which last year, was miserable. But better to be alone and not eating then to be alone and stuffing my fat face with food. Ha why bother eating?! Yes last year was a bit miserable but it was nothing that I can't go through again. Maybe this year I'll let myself eat a bit, but probably not. I have a definite black and white thinking when it comes to eating. Its either eat or fast. Not a lot of wiggle room for the in between. 

*may trigger.

I lay in bed worrying about the food I've eaten. I add it up in my head. Definitely too much. There was no need to eat those pretzels or those peppers. My mind starts to race. From calories to how much of an annoyance I am to those around me. I over-share. I need to keep my big fat mouth closed, in conversations and when eating. 

I get up and drag the scale out from under my bed. Getting on I'm disgusted with the number. Just purge, I think. And so I do. In the dark into the waste basket. Still messy with what I just did I get back on the scale, the number is slightly lower, but I'm not happy with it. I shove it back into place with my foot and wash up. 

I'll fast tomorrow to make up for purging tonight. I'll be good. I'll be more careful with what I eat. I'll be all around better, I won't bug people, I won't put off things til the last moment. I won't waste a minute of the day.