I.Am.Broken. There, I said it. I was broken 50-some pounds ago too. I am still broken. Turns out, if you don't fix what is broken, it is likely to break again. Slapping a bandaid on it and pretending that everything is okay doesn't work. Well, not in the long run. You can only pretend to be okay for so long before all those balls you are trying to keep in the air come falling down around you and you find yourself flat on your ass.
Which, by the way, is where I am right now.
I am not sure when, or how, exactly I became broken again. All I know, is I am. I feel like I am at the very beginning of this journey again. Having to face the same demons. Climb the same hills.
The fact is, I have an eating disorder. Even typing that out made me cringe a little. For the past few months I have referred to it as a "food addiction" rarely phrasing it as an eating disorder. And rarely treating it with the respect that it deserved.
And so, I am broken again.
I try to find small victories in my broken state. Atleast, now, I can see the signs before it gets out of hand. But, I can't take comfort in that. At least not right now. Because even though I caught it before it got out of hand, I still found myself eating more and excercising less the last couple of days. It still happened.
My fat girl became the predominant figure again. After four months of relegating her to the back of my mind, she broke through my defenses.
In order to actually move beyond what is broken, you actually need to fix what is broken.
Now, it's time to fix it. For good.