I was asked today if I thought that recovery was still in my grasp or whether or not I would struggle with my e.d. for the rest of my life. I surprised myself by saying that I thought I would struggle for the rest of my life and that I would never manage to be free. I used to hold the belief that some day I truly would be free from my e.d.

I was asked why this belief had changed and I could not come up with a viable answer. I just responded with the fact that this obsession will not go away. The thoughts are constantly patronizing me incessantly.

Then I was asked if I thought it was better to live with a life threatening e.d. or to be where I am now, better but still struggling occasionally. Or whether I had to be 100% recovered. I said 100% recovered.

Nothing really became of this in the conversation, as I was so far gone from restricting that I had no idea what to think and the room about me was spinning and very fuzzy.

I left the office and clambered into my family's station wagon. Driving away I felt numb. I got to the highway and could not focus. I probably tickled death more than once in the trip back home...

After eating a little, then spending almost two hours digging the garden with Lindsey (president of the Environmental Club), I dragged my heavy-headed, tired body home for a family dinner.

It is after dinner, as I sat in my room, that I thought it was time to release the one last shackle from my e.d.

Today I have decided to place my food journal in the cupboard of my desk and leave it there. This is the beginning of an experiment. An experiment of being normal. I want to be normal and I want to be free.