TW. Disturbing themes.

I don't feel guilty anymore when I eat.. You'd never expect it. Growing up with toxic diet culture, and everyone in my family lecturing me about how much I eat and what I'm putting in my body..

It was awful. I'd starve myself to feel pretty. To feel normal.. Every time I ate, I'd feel.. Dirty.

I've been getting better about it. My husband has by far been the most supportive person in my life, trying to show me that I deserve to take care of myself, and I'm beautiful no matter what..

It's been hard, but I've finally gotten to a healthy state of mind. I'm not ruining myself. And food is not the enemy. Eating doesn't make me any less worth love and effort..

I eat regularly now. Healthily. I deserve to eat even on bad days, and my husband assures me of that.

I've noticed a difference, too. I've never been healthier.. I have more energy than I used to when I starved myself. I'm much stronger, and it's like the world is vibrant again. I can see things, smell things, and hear things so much better now that I'm actually taking care of myself.

I don't know if it's that I'm feeding myself the right nutrients, or if I'm just feeling mentally healthier.. But my god, it's invigorating. 

Sometimes I still feel the urge to starve myself creeping up on me.. like when the police in town come knocking to ask some questions about our neighbors disappearances.. To see if we know anything. 

I know what's about to happen when my husband locks the door behind them as they enter.. That familiar click noise, always just a few months after we move to a new town.

I smile sweetly at the officers.. I can smell them. I could smell them as they pulled into the driveway. Officer Petty has a small cut on his neck from shaving that morning. I could smell it earlier that day, too. My husband had a day off from work today. He took me for coffee in the early morning at the local cafe.. Honestly, I'm just a monster without my iced coffee, you know? They were in there, though. I acted like I didn't notice the way the officers eyed my husband as they were asking questions to the locals and munching doughnuts at the counter.

We weren't exactly new in town. This was the longest we had ever stayed anywhere.. But people never take kindly to my husband.. I can never understand why. He's the sweetest, truly.. helping me with my mental health problems all these years..

I don't feel dread when he locks that door anymore. He's trying to take care of me, you know? That's what good husbands do. He'll even praise me afterwards.. Telling me how proud he is. How pretty I look covered in blood... How he's glad I don’t hurt myself over feeling hungry anymore.

It's a pity, though.. I liked this town. We had finally settled in and gotten used to it... If only they hadn't asked so many questions.