So much time has elapsed since writing my last post. So much time and so much has happened. The truth is i felt like a hypocrite writing this blog, because it was supposed to encourage my recovery. Instead I slowly started off on a downward spiral that led me right back to the beginning. At first it all seemed so innocent. I only wanted to lose a kilo, then another, then another. Before i knew it, it was out of control. I was losing rapidly, and even though i wanted to stop, i couldn't. I wanted to reach out to those around me for help, but i somehow couldn't find the strength. To be honest I was scared. I was scared of what a second recovery would mean for me, how it would affect my life. One night I sat down, weighed out the pro's and con's and told my parents the truth. Then came the hard part. I fought food, I manipulated the scales, I told myself that I could keep playing this game, and if I just gained a little more weight i would be fine. But that was a lie, just like the many others I would tell myself in hopes that I could have a normal life without giving up the habits and routines that I had become so accustomed to. Finally I came clean. I decided I really want to fight. The doctors recommended hospitalization. At 37 kg it's easy to see why. They couldn't believe I would be strong enough to fight on my own. But I want to, I want to prove them wrong. Some days I forget why I'm fighting, I want to hide from the world and curl up and accept my fate. Yes, I realize that my fate is death if i give into this illness. But some days even that seems better then the effort I need to put into fighting. Then I look around me and I see my family and friends and I tell myself "Today I will fight. I will eat today, just today, and then I'll leave tomorrow to itself". So far the road is rough. In a month I've gained around 0.5 kg. I gained that recently and I experience horrible depression. Still I struggle on. Still I reach for the light.