Do I ever think about relapsing? Do I ever get an eerie nostalgic feeling on days when I don’t eat enough? Do I ever crave the intense release of ab/p? Do I ever look at old pictures and want my old figure back? I’d be lying if I said that I recovered without looking back. And it’s more than just looking back – I can actually feel the ghosts of my past inside me, I can call those old feelings up on a minute’s notice.

What keeps me where I am? I’ve done that stuff already, and look where it got me. There’s no more novelty to be had. No more allure of the dangerous stranger. I have not, as some people do, forgotten the oh-so-unglamorous drawbacks of it all. The hiding, the isolation, the fear, the intense loneliness and the ever growing sense of unfullfillment.

And I know that no matter how much I think relapsing may satisfy or numb that intense longing, it will only leave me perpetually unsatisfied, “high and dry”.