Sigh. I’m sitting in my psychiatrist’s office, dreading the conversation I’m about to have. I’ve started binging again – polished off 1.5 pints of Edy’s ice cream in 24 hours.
It was good. Until the shame and guilt hit me. I’m avoiding the bathroom scale; I don’t want to know. I feel so lost. I’m too ashamed to go back to OA. I can’t walk in there, discussing my failure to rope myself in again.