Spoke too soon

I debated whether to share this post but, as hard as it feels to say these things aloud sometimes, I gotta talk about the rough and the smooth or what's the point? A few weeks ago I know I couldn't have communicated to anyone the moments where I lose control, as my head tells me that losing control represents huge failure, so in talking about it I suppose I'm trying to take back some control.

Last night, I binged. I really binged. We're not talking the self-loathing yarn, too often overheard in female conversation, of 'Ooo i was so naughty, I had an extra slice of cake'. I'm talking the whole cake and then some. My bloated, full, painful stomach didn't stop me, nor the guilt and self-hatred that came with every mouthful. 

I'm too weary today of this hamster's wheel of a journey I'm on to even attempt to psychoanalyse and articulate the rationale for this behaviour, all I can do now is focus my energies on trying to resist the guilt and overwhelming sense that I'm losing.

The best way I can try to explain it is that when I've had a few consecutively good days and I just get to the point of feeling like I'm regaining some control of my life and habits, along comes Ted, stronger than I remembered, to tell me that I'm getting ahead of myself and make me feel like I'm right back at square one.

But I must must must remember that he's wrong. Because to paraphrase an analogy passed on to me by one of my 'team'- when you're climbing a mountain and you fall down, you don't roll all the way back down to the bottom, you may lose a few steps but then you get back up, brush yourself off and carry on up the mountain. And that's all I can do.