I can hardly remember what normalcy was before things took a turn. What I do remember was prioritizing everything but my relationships, missed opportunities, missed memories. Nearly a decade later I reflect on my choices and patterns, whats changed and what has remained static. What I can say with certainty is that I haven't felt content at any weight but maybe this is relative to my mental state, which has stayed the same for years.
Anyone inflicted with this disease is bound to be a cold empty shell of their former selves. As much as I wanted to believe that I could turn back whenever I wanted to, that was simply not the case. Somehow down the line I had realized that I had no choice but to continue in my daily rituals to maintain a peace of mind. I maintained this habit in secret until I told the truth in 2020. Of course there was always suspicion but I became a habitual liar out of self preservation.