Sparks

Apologies if this post is somewhat disjointed or rambling, but I need to get these words down while they are still fresh in my mind. Five minutes ago, while speaking to a nurse, I said 'Life is too short for this'

I have whittled my life down to nothing but numbers and scar tissue; numbers on a scales, clothing labels, food packets consume my days. In darker moments it's sharp edges and torn skin, or handfuls of pills. That is my world now, to the detriment of all else. I have let relationships fall away; interests and pleasures dissolve into nothing; and worst of all I have almost allowed myself to completely disappear. The emptiness inside me had grown so big that I felt there was nothing left for me but death. As recent as two days ago, that void nearly pulled me in. But it didn't, I fought back. At the time I didn't know why I was doing it, I cursed myself for my weakness. The voices howled at me, raged inside my head. Even as I type this, the thoughts are trying to push their way in, as I knew they would. Because I realised something this afternoon, something important, something they will try and take from me.

I have nothing to lose by trying one more time, but everything to gain

I am not happy as I am, counting and starving and cutting haven't made me happy. Reaching 50kgs did not make me happy, and reaching 49 won't make me happy. It is possible that I will give my all to this programme, and fail. I will most certainly stumble along the way. But if at the end of it, nothing has changed, then I haven't lost anything. But what if, at the end, and understand that I believe my recovery will be a lifelong challenge, there is no easy fix. What if I can make my life more than numbers, what if I can make my life anything I choose it to be? What if I could be someone who has amazing days, bad days, nothing days, average days, fat days, comfort days? What if I could have a lifetime of days, each different from the next in some way, each one a day lived. In trying, there is possibility. Maybe some days all I will achieve is to get out of bed and get dressed, and I know there will be plenty of days ahead like that. But there are so many other day's that I could have.

I have given so much of myself to my illness, I have let it rob me of so many moments that I can never get back. But maybe, just maybe, I can take back what is mine and use whatever time I have left on this earth as best as I can. The good, the bad, and the really fucking ugly.

Tomorrow I might not feel so sure of myself, but I will know that I have chosen to remain in the fight for a little bit longer. I can look back at this post and know that somewhere, buried beneath all that pain, is a spark.

And that's all I need. Just one little spark to light the way.