To Blog Anew or Not To Blog Anew...?

That is my question. Well... I've already started a new blog... It's different. Less personal. More hopeful. Not about me... about encouraging others who are recovering... I don't know where that leaves me here. I feel ashamed of my self-centred ramblings here. And yet... It seems like such a lot to just walk away from. 
 My weight is dropping and my mind is hurtling into the no man's land that sits between life and death. It is achingly desperate that my words can fly the banner of freedom, but my mouth won't be filled with the nourishment it needs. I am afraid that in a few months, my voice will be all there is. An empty echo. 
Heard but not seen.

A Trajectory Towards Death and Why an Anorexic Can't Bake Gingerbread Hearts

The guy who manages my care here is philosophical as he draws a continuous line through my weight chart. He looks grim faced as he states it is a trajectory towards death. He coins a new phrase, 'the line of decline' and jokes that he will be using that one in the next staff meeting. 
Despite his laughter, I know that he longs for my recovery almost as much as a member of my own family. He has known my parents, my sister (and latterly, me) for seventeen years now. He is as dedicated to wiping out eating disorders as any serious contract killer and although he is has vast acres of experience, his seemingly endless ability to maintain some small glimmer of hope (comments about trajectories not withstanding) never ceases to amaze me. Perhaps it's just that he's missed his vocation as an actor, but he always seems to take me seriously. I just can't count the times when I swear blind that I'll beat it this week; that I'll allow myself to eat a little more; that next weigh in will be different...  I mean it, by the way. My words, when I speak them, are never hollow promises. And yet, week in, week out, I stare disbelievingly at the scales thinking that they can't be right. Not possibly.
Even I would stop believing me.

He has talked to me about going into the day unit. Or back into inpatient for a spell.
I refuse.
He bides his time. 

I have the very best of intentions.

Which brings me to Gingerbread Hearts, which I think I will make for a family friend who is going through a hell I can't imagine.
Simple gesture, right?
Or it is until I think I'll make a batch and have a couple as my allocated snack.

I'll just make them a teensy bit more healthy... No harm in that. 'NORMAL' people do that all the time... It's NORMAL to cut down on the sugar. 
And so I substitute sugar for stewed apple.
I'm sure that it's NORMAL to reduce the fat. I can think of friends who aren't anorexic and THEY would cut down on the butter. Right?
Of course they would. It's NORMAL nowadays. In this health conscious, nutritionally aware age, people ALWAYS use lower fat options.
And so I substitute some of the fat for stewed apple.

Don't try this at home. 

Compromise is the name of the game. 
Trouble is, an anorexic ends up compromising on everything. Trimming off edges until there's nothing left. 
An analogy so apt that it aches.

Facts and Figures. It's All or Nothing

Three Months - One Stone (6.3kg)  = Slow Downward Trend

Based on current rate

BMI 16.1
- 1 Stone  (3 months)

 = BMI  13.6 by end of August

I'm trying so hard to keep fighting but I'm doing a really intensive teaching course (English as a foreign language) and I'm finding it very hard to focus on both the input sessions, assignments, lesson planning and teaching, and the battle against Anorexia. 

I must write here more. The intention is there but I find the drive towards perfection kills my ability to even begin. 
This is so typical of somebody who has 'all or nothing' thinking.