I'm just about dead on my feet, but I'm forcing myself onto my arse because I could well torture myself a bit more by prancing about. Beware though, I could well end up falling asleep on the keyboard (it's happened before. Even sober, as I sadly am now) and you might just get a string of letters from my nose planting, before my drool trips the laptop and I am electrocuted.
It's been an excellent weekend. Well. Ish. It involved Young Minds training, meeting new friends, seeing an old one and spending time with the ones I already have. Pretty perfect, eh? And it was. It should have been. But that doesn't take into account my mental state and the effect on my physical. I'm struggling and, anorexia-wise, I'm on a cliff edge. I somehow talked my way off my meal plan, so I have freedom to eat or not eat, which is bloody complicated because all I want is to be happy and well, but my mind is constantly creating new ways to avoid both of these things. I'm struggling with entitlement. I want to be well, but am I entitled? Is my body? Is it better to torture myself physically, by restricting, or mentally, by not? It's exhausting.
My blood pressure keeps dropping and I'm having to hide physical weakness and it's just torture. I need a break. I'm nearly crying, because I just need a break. I'm about to stop tapping about, get up, force myself to potter and prance before I crumble completely. I'll make tomorrow better.