Low

I'm anxious.  I've been debating whether or not to walk to Whole Foods to purchase some dinner, even though I have enough makings for a salad here.  I haven't eaten much today: no breakfast, some kale and a handful of edamame for lunch, no snacks, but lots and lots of sparkling water.  And yet I still feel like a blimp, or my stomach does, anyway.  Am I hungry?  Fuck if I know.  

I'm in such a bad place.  I cried in my meeting today, not having cried in over three weeks, over my frustration with my compulsivity.  I was asked what I'm scared of.  Is it of getting fat?  I already think I'm fat, and obviously my mental status isn't top-notch, so what difference does it make if I gain a few?  Am I scared I'm going to fall off of the wagon?  Yep.  Reading my old journal really jarred me.  I feel like I'm on a repetitive spin cycle with my thoughts, threatened they will return with avengance every few years (months/minutes?).  My sponsor actually asked me if I had suicidal thoughts after I started crying.  I don't.  Thank goodness I don't.  I don't know if the Prozac is working (I have a hard time believing it can have an effect so quickly), but I haven't felt like not living since you went to Europe six weeks ago.  For that I'm grateful.  

I wish you were here.