My husband confronted me last night.  He's never done that before.  Found me sleeping on the couch in the middle of the day after another binge.  We need to talk.  He doesn't say things like that.  Doesn't confront issues.  Usually just waits for problems to go away or for me to bring them up.  But I don't do that so much anymore.  I let things go.  I pay little attention.  I wallow in my own problems.  You used to be so active, he said.  You were always moving, exercising, walking, working, cleaning, doing.  This isn't you.  It's so hard to see you like this.  Look at the house.  Look at how you're eating.  You don't live your life anymore.  I can't stand seeing you like this.  You can't be happy this way.  There's something wrong with you.  You need help.  I didn't want to say anything before, didn't want to hurt your feelings, he said. 

Was actually probably waiting for me to fix it like I've always fixed everything else.  But not this time.  I can't.  I'm stuck.  I try over and over and over again.  I can't pull out of it.  I try different ideas.  I make plans, I make goals, I make resolutions.  I try.  And then I fail.  And I don't know why.  I just don't know why I'm a different person now.  I'll help you, he said.  I heard these same words from my best friend just two weeks ago.  I'll help you.  Look at yourself.  What has happened to you?  You have to change this.  You can't live this way. 

I hadn't told him about the therapist for eating disorders I found.  That I had finally decided to do what my doctor advised.  What I had so far refused to do.  Get help.  I told him that night.  I see her this week.  I'm going with you he said.  Even if it's only to sit in the waiting room.  

I don't deserve him.  And now I'm terrified I'm going to let him down.   I have a feeling this is it.  I get a grip now and get my addiction to food under control and return to living my life or he's gonna slip away.  And really who could blame him.  Not me. 

I don't know why I reach for it over and over and over again.  I know how I'm going to feel after.  I know I'm going to hate myself.  Going to lay down somewhere in a sugar induced stupor, no energy or desire to do anything but sit there and feel physically and mentally numb.  But in that moment when I'm making the decision on whether or not to reach for that first bite that's going to set it all off, all I'm consumed with is not how I'm going to feel later… but how I feel now, how freaking lousy I feel, and how I want to feel better in the moment.  Calm it all, escape it all.  Just do it, I scream at myself from somewhere deep inside.  Do it, just this one time.  Just now, just today.  You can start tomorrow.  Do it right tomorrow.  Eat this today.  And start tomorrow.  That will work.  And I feel that with the deepest of conviction.  Yes.  Yes, I'll start tomorrow.  Yes, I will.  Then, in a moment steeped in futility, I reach for it.. 

And yesterday's tomorrow becomes yet another failure.


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