Recovery

There are times like tonight when I realize that recovery never ends. While attempting to read an article for an English class I have tomorrow, I was overwhelmed with sadness and a desire to die. Being clinically depressed is not something one can often control, and I realized this tonight. I am more frequently reminded that I will never fully recover from anorexia nervosa, when I catch myself looking at myself in the mirror, seized by the panic of thinking I am fat. I am not fat, I’m still quite thin. This doesn’t stop me from fretting over what I eat on a daily basis, or stressing that I didn’t exercise enough at the gym on a given day. I sit here tonight, trying my hardest to do my homework, but I cannot. I am sad from fighting with my boyfriend all day and sad because I don’t want to feel this way. It’s hard to be happy when the person you love puts you down. I don’t want to argue with him, and immediately after I feel regret for bringing our problems to light. My frustration is bubbling over at this point, and I want to cry and die and harm myself more than anything right now. I will not however. I will sit in my room, smoke a cigarette, put on music, talk to my roommate, and distract myself from my demons. Because that is what recovery is. Recovery is day to day.