I am no longer “too thin.” My clothes are no longer hanging from the bones protruding from my hips. I do not count ice cubes and broth as “meals” anymore.
That does not mean that this addiction does not haunt me still. The disorder craves control.
It is here with me, in my mind. Always.
Every day, counting.
Every day, abusing myself with words.
Every day, regretting.
It is deep inside me, still in my bones. Screaming for attention. The disorder demands to be noticed.
I am no longer underweight. My clothes fit too tight sometimes.
I have not been cured. Addiction does not disappear. It is maintained. It is hidden. It becomes the things you cannot see.
