Diary entries written from 2018 to 2019, writing this blog post is the first time I read them from start to finish.

Living with an eating disorder is like being at war - two voices in constant battle in my head, fighting to be heard.

There is no winning with an eating disorder. Less pride in recovery milestones, I only hear and see weight gain - and it still scares me.

There's an ‘i’ in exercise for a reason. Doing it for ourselves or the validation of others - and what if I am not in a good headspace?

I am more afraid of, threatened by weekends than weekdays. Mental health ruins my capacity for fun.

I live in a constant state of worry - who will I be on the other side of recovery, and will people like me?

Today is my friend's birthday. Not even about me and yet I feel nervous, the eating disorder like a Scarlett Letter on my dress.

I have to consciously not overthink body change. Otherwise it will get to me that I no longer look or feel how I used to.

Yoghurt is a fear food; although I took the plunge and bought one to have for dessert, I freaked out and never ate it. Here's why.

I continue to cancel or decline events and then feel sad to miss out. My choice, driven more out of fear than want.

The eating disorder has taught me to worry. I overthink, lose sleep - and when it panics, I panic.

Sharing recovery highs is one thing - admitting to slipping up is shameful, weak, even.