My weight goes up and down, within acceptable limits.
My depression and anxiety is gradually lifting thanks to the prozac (and no thanks to the NHS who have had me on a waiting list for a therapist for over a year and a half). I’m feeling a lot stronger and more at ease with my weird self.
I’m settled on describing myself as genderqueer and have stopped worrying so much about whether I’m trans or just can’t deal with our cultures bogus gender roles or whatever. Neutral pronouns please.
I’ve been working a bit. Little baby steps into the adult world, being around people. My confidence has grown exponentially with every day I get through and don’t fuck up (or get attacked or summon cthulhu or whatever it is I’m actually afraid of).
I still live in an emotionally incestuous tense little knot with my parents but hey, right now were all getting on so things are OK.
I turned 30 and only freaked out a *little bit* about being so old and such a pathetic underachiever.

Anyway, I don’t know why I stopped posting here but right now I’m inspired to start again. I think I might be having a teeny tiny micro mini relapse – I’ve been restricting for two weeks and feel the urge to dive back into reading about EDs…but even recognising this shows I’ve come a long way.

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