It seems that I can't balance Anorexia with, well, anything much right now and it seemed to take priority over everything this last week, hence the silence on this place. It's actually terrifying, and in a way, I think it must be a bit like being diagnosed with dementia. You know you're going to lose cognition, but you know you're going to know you're forgetting things until, well, you don't. Knowledge of demise is infinitely more petrifying than I can express.
I won't go back. I won't. I'm on bloody crutches right now, for a hip problem that's incredo likely to be a side effect of years and years of this crap. I could list every part of my body, and tell you what it's done to me. What I've done for myself. I. Me. I don't like thinking of it that way, of being able to stop the train before it ran out of tracks, then watching it fallingfallingfalling.
I won't fall.