She's back

Ive returned. I have spent the last three months traveling the country working, taking in the scenery, and trying to really enjoy the shit out of my life. There were ups and downs. I drowned her out for so long. Sure, I had a few relapses, now worse than ever. But for awhile, I was okay. I was able to drown out the voices telling me I was a failure. Telling me that every single piece of food I put into my mouth was going to be the end of me. I did so good for so long. I carried my scale with me all summer and I did not get on it once. Sure when I was down I restricted and exercised like my life depended on it, but I did not get on that scale. Until today. One step and it was all over. I cried for 45 minutes. Sure, I expected I would gain a little weight since I was trying to I guess we could call it recover. I was trying so hard to be normal, and fit in. But I went and I fucked it all up. I hate myself for getting on the scale but I hate myself even more for the number that I saw. And I know that this is where we start over, ground zero. All the progress, gone in an instant. I still have two more weeks working and I know exactly how they will be spent. I thought I was strong. I really did. I thought that I could do this. How many times am I going to come crawling back to her, begging for her forgiveness?