I think it's been a week since I quit atkins (all because of an apple!). And my weight has dropped more in a week than in the 2.5 weeks I was carb counting. The little that it has dropped, has stayed consistent though. That makes me happy. I fear that if I'm not counting anything that I eat, but just trying to make good decisions, I can do it until the number goes up. That scares me more than alot of things. As long as I don't gain weight, I can do this. I feel good though. I don't feel bloated, and I'm trying really hard to be comfortable with my body. Learning to love oneself is quite a process. I'm not really sure how to do it. Like, sometimes I'll be happy with my legs. And then sometimes I'm happy with my face. But other days, I'll hate every single part of me.

I took a sharpie and wrote 'fuck you for basing my self worth on a number' on my scale. I day dreamt about taking a hammer and smashing the thing to pieces in my back yard. And then I imagined myself sprawled out in the grass, feeling both a sense of freedom and an intense loss.  I felt that way about razors during my many years of self injury. It actually wasn't until a few weeks ago, that I took all my razors in my little tree bag and threw them away. If I can do that, I can get rid of a scale, right? Inanimate objects, that lend a hand in my self destructive habits have so much control of me. I feel like they're friends. Friends that help me through the hard times. 

I remember that thursday in the car driving back from the park with D. He'd asked me to give him my razors, and i physically couldn't reach into my purse and give them to him. I called him on the way home, and told him if he'd pull over i'd give them to him. I remember releasing them into his hand...a tiny bundle wrapped in a bloody napkin. I shook uncontrollably and he hugged me.  

Despite all of this, I feel good and happy right now. I'm honestly happy with the way things are going for the first time since I've been in nashville. I feel a sense of peace. I don't think I realized how much living with J affected me, and aided in my eating disorder until I removed that situation from my life. (I can't say removed myself from that situation, because I wasn't removed really, the situation was.) I don't think I was strong enough to even consider recovery as an option while I was living with her. It took completely starting from scratch and rebuilding myself from the bottom up. 

I'm thankful for L. She makes me want to be happy, and healthy. She makes me want to treat my body good, and not put bad things it. She makes me feel okay to be me. She doesn't look at people and see skinny or fat. She looks at them and see beauty, and art, and love. She loves people, like I want to. 

This is going to be a good year. I'm sure of it. 

Now to find a job.