the me I was...

After a couple of hours spent trying to sleep, I've given up for the moment.

I keep thinking about who I used to be a few years (or even months) ago. In a lot of ways, I'm haunted by the image of the old me and wish desperately to go back to who that girl is. And at the same time, I'm just as disturbed by the pain I feel when I see all of the changes in my life.

The changes have been for good. I no longer starve myself. I no longer do a lot of things that were really quite bad for me. Yet I'm dissatisfied.

I look at myself in the mirror with contempt. I despise what I see -- the thickened waistline, the fuller hips and breasts, the presence of more me everywhere. I hate that.

I feel like I've completely lost control -- I can't go without eating anymore. I get so sick when I don't, most likely because of the years I spent keeping myself to under 1,000 calories per day, if I made it even close to that. I see pictures of myself from just last year and compare them to how I look now, and I want to cry.

I want to cry because I'm "not skinny."

How stupid is that? How ridiculous is it that I berate myself for every thing I put inside my mouth? Even as my brain says that I need to eat, and that eating is good for me, my brain also screams to stop because I'm FAT.

My diet isn't bad. I eat a lot of good foods, and I go for walks several times a day. That's about all I can do right now, as my body still gets worn out very quickly. I'm not complaining -- there have been times when all I could do was lie in bed and pray that the pain would go away. Walking is a joy. The pain I experience after a long walk is worth it, because I'm walking. And not a slow stroll walk either, but actually walking to have some sort of activity in my life.

Despite it all, my pants still get tighter. My shirts aren't baggy. There is more of me than there has been in years, and I have to force myself out of a panic when I feel myself starting to get hungry (also a new development -- in the past five years, I forgot how to feel hungry). I have to make myself be calm and remind my brain that if I don't eat, I'll get sicker.

I miss the old me. I know it's stupid. I know it's wrong. I know that weight isn't the important thing.

But I don't believe it. And I wish that I could go back.