"Our greatest glory consists not in never falling, but in rising every time we fall." Oliver Goldsmith

Today was another seemingly uneventful day. It's Saturday which means my boyfriend was home today because he wasn't working. We ate breakfast together. Things seemed normal. We drank coffee and watched television. He read the paper. I called my mother. Before I realized, it was after 11 and he was in a bit of a hurry for us to get out of the apartment and run some errands. In the mania of rushing to get ready, I didn't eat lunch. He had soup while I was in the shower. I was home free. I could have taken the time to say, hey, I need to eat something. Because in my head I acknowledged that I should eat something. Instead of eating, I grabbed a diet soda and we headed out the door.

When we got home we decided to walk to the gym. I burned a lot of calories and by the time we got home I was so hungry. By then it was almost time for dinner so I started cooking. By the time dinner was ready, I was at the point of not being hungry anymore. But I ate anyway. I made myself.

I realize skipping lunch was wrong. I just recently started eating lunch again. Until this summer (in May, to be exact) I never ever ate lunch. Now I do it daily, even if it's something small. Obviously, I let my eating disorder win one battle today. Even if it was only a small victory, I yielded. And I lost.

But not all was lost.

I won the next one.

Eating dinner made me feel much better and stronger. In the past, skipping one meal automatically led to skipping the next. Why eat lunch if I didn't eat breakfast? And if I skipped those two meals, why bother to eat dinner? I used to be so trapped in that vicious cycle that I wouldn't eat for days and days and days. I used to think those were "perfect" days. I see now how wrong I was. How sick I was. How sad I was. How desperate I was.

I don't have to feel that way anymore.

If anyone is reading this, you don't have to feel that way either.