This feels like I got on a shitty rollercoaster ride. Like one of those rides you see at the town carnival that already looks unstable and no fun from afar, but someone whisks you onto it without you realizing. Next thing you know, you're swinging between both ends.

Imagine, for the past 10 years, spending every single day dedicating some time to looking in the mirror and insulting yourself. Planning out your binges and purges to the T. The how, the when, the how much. Spending every waking moment telling yourself that you are worthless, incapable of love, and ugly. Also, compulsively checking your stomach every hour (by grabbing a roll of fat) to check if it's still there. Feeling disappointed when it is. Imagine growing up as a little girl and then a young woman and being overweight the whole time. Imagine being called pregant when you were only 15.

Now imagine feeling that everyday, but occasionally having a day in the middle of the week where it seems... okay. Like you've finally come to the realization that you are pretty and worthy. And then the feeling gets stronger. Like you're finally over binge eating and throwing up and hating yourself. It feels amazing! But this feeling is almost euphoric, like... "wow! I finally don't hate myself. I need more and more and more... oh hey, there's those cookies I made yesterday." It never lasts.

Now imagine how quickly this day can disappear (within the hour). And you're back to square one, like always. Back to hating yourself endlessly.

It feels like this is never going to go away. Like I'll never learn to fully love myself.