On Saturday I took my culinary skills to new heights and made the best "I can't believe you made that" cakes. This is is a gift for my dad for his 50th Birthday...
I found myself watching Saturdays "Baking made easy" with Lorraine Pascal and thought to myself... "I reckon I could actually make that"... But I never expected it to go this successfully! My dad loved it, and I'm going to meet him today (as today is his actual birthday) for a coffee and a piece of said cake.
Following Sundays three course meal trauma I am still feeling extremely tentative about having a piece of my creation. Last night, even two hours at the gym did not ebb the feelings of guilt over Sunday's feast (even though I didn't really eat much of anything if I look at it rationally...)...
Sitting between my eating disordered sister and eating disordered step mum was quite an experience. Although I tried my hardest to avert my gaze from their behaviours, my own thoughts were stinging at me after every mouthful.
I feel angry. Angry that I have to make the effort to get better when they are allowed to be the way they are. I am angry at my boyfriends sister for being allowed to continue as she is doing. Part of me feels that it is unfair that I have to make the effort just because I have admitted that I have a problem, when they are left to their own devices. Everyone is just watching them get worse and worse, but I am the only person they challenge.
I hate that people also assume that just because I have sought some help, that I have had some kind of epiphany and that everything will all of a sudden be rectified overnight. My family think that as I have sought help, that I am better, when I am actually deteriorating at a rate that frightens me to the centre of my dwindling insight. I feel pressured. That now I have took the first steps, I have to get better, but I don't want to, but I do at the same time.
I feel completely lost with regards to what I want or expect from myself.
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