I can breathe...and just let it go.

12.00 pm yesterday, in my kitchen at home.

Sleeves rolled up to my elbows, my hair pulled back from my face in apoor resemblance of a bun at the back of my head, I was in the process of making a batch of oat and raisin cookies for the currently empty biscuit tin, methodically weighing out butter and sugar and flour, stepping lightly from one cupboard to the next as I laid out the required utensils and ingredients. On a chair in the cornoer of the room sat my laptop, song after song on my Spotify playlist blaring out from speakers turned up to their highest volume. My mind, however, wasn't really focused on what my hands were doing. Rather, I was a hundred million miles away: in another world, a world which no other person except me would ever be able to comprehend, let alone step into; a world which where two wills are locked together in what appears to be a never-ending battle.

It's the world, of course - that space, within the deepest and darkest corner of my mind - where ensues the ferocious between me, of course, and ED.

It's 12 midday now...

And if I were to stick to the meal plan...this is the time, when I would have my morning snack...

But you can't, that Voice hissed. I mean...you've never done this before. It's impossible!! You will be having a snack later on I am sure. You simply CANT have one in the morning as well!!

I can, I cried, desperate. But my resolve was weakening. The butter and sugar in my mixing bowl were fully creamed together, now, but I still continued to beat with a furious, desperate vigour, my knuckles white upon the handle of the spoon. I can't...do...it....

Let it go.

Elsa's Voice, cutting in across my own. Let it go.

Can't hold it back, anymore...
Let it go, let it go...
Let the storm rage on.
The cold never bothered me anyway...

I lifted my own voice to join in with Elsa's own. It didn't matter that my voice was no where near as strong or as beautiful as that of the Disney Snow Princess; neither, did it matter, that my face was smudged with flour dust and I was currently wearing probably the oldest and most tattered looking top that I had in my possession. For I suddenly felt like a newly fledged seabird, one which has been perched upon the edge of the cliffface for so, so long, so afraid to take that one single step forward:That one single, tiny, but inescapably crucial, definitive step forward. A step that constitutes the ultimate leap of faith; for now, the time has finally come, for the seabird to test his wings.

To be overcome by the rush of the air and the roar of the waves as they crash upon the jagged rocks below: to be numbed and paralysed by the fear, a fear born out of the strangeness and unknown of that moment. And that fear overcomes him, and he plummets down, down towards those pitiless, cruel, cold, dark rocks.

Or to spread out those beautiful, strong wings...and to fly and to soar, to ride upon the winds and glide above the waves, beautiful and strong and finally, finally free.

I can be free...I can let it go.
Ed can rage and threaten. This storm is my head may rage on.

But I can be stronger and face the storm.

I can let Ed go. I can...be free.

And I DID have my morning snack. The one thing, which I have never, ever managed to have, since I went off track back in September. Morning snacks were "banned", by ED. Even since when I started working on the relapse, and started having hot choc in the mornings again...having something to eat with it, as my meal plan dictated I should have, was a big no-no, of course.

And that day, I achieved what seemed so scary and impossible: I followed my meal plan fully, no slip-ups or exceptions. The hardest part was over: I know now that, having done it once, I will bbe able to do it again.

I'm learning to spread my wings...
I'm finally learning to fly.

And the fears that once controlled me...can't get to me at all.

It's time to see what I can do...

To test the limits and reak through.

No right or wrong, no rules for me...I breathe...

Let it go... <3 xxx