Tonight I packed up a giant black trash bag full of clothes to donate. Some were worn out, some were no longer my style, some I just never wore, but some were things I was holding onto for when I got skinny again, size zero and such. But I’m realizing that I’ll probably never be that size again. I’m no longer anorexic, and binging – even if I purge – is not doing anything good for my weight. So I got rid of them. I thought I’d feel good, like fuck that unrealistic standard, but instead I’m just sad. I’m sad bc I’m still just as fucked in the head as I was 20 lbs ago, but now no one can see it. I’m still tormented by food and calories and fat, but I’m no longer little. I feel even worse about myself bc I don’t even have the willpower to starve anymore to make up for my binges. It’s like I kept all the shit and none of the benefit. If this is recovery, then recovery sucks.