I have never been consistent with anything, not with this blog, not with my eating disorder, not with my relationships, not with life...not with anything other than the goal to feel better, to be better, to be enough.
I am never enough. I never feel pretty enough, smart enough, witty enough, delightful enough, eloquent enough, carefree enough, disciplined enough.
I know in some capacity I am all of those things, but am I enough of if and in the right capacity?
How can you ever know? How can you ever accept yourself for who you are and what you will become, while balancing and striving the desire to be better.
I start another new university tomorrow, without having really cut ties with the old one. I have the most wonderful man in my life, that is a healthy and dynamic relationship that makes me want to be more and to try harder. Yet I still feel alone to some degree...
Some nights the loneliness is worse than others, and thats when my eating disorder is my biggest comfort. The ever present companion that is poises itself as a gentle caretaker encouraging me to seek refuge in its ever cold embrace, but its disguise as delicately crafted as it is, never fulfills me and leaves me lonelier and destitute craving companionship and love more than ever before, but unable to accept it because how could anyone that damaged deserve such connectedness let alone seek it out?
I have been just as sick if not sicker at times than I have ever been before. I cannot promise I will be back. I am indeed happier, more afraid but definitely happier at this point in my life than I have ever been. I do not want to go to treatment, but I do not know how to let go of this awful all encompassing disease.