Last year in September I had started my recovery.  I had been B/P free until June. During those 9 months of my recovery I had some serious medical problems, some good and really close people died, my relationship went through a serious crisis – but I had managed all those things without turning into food. I was proud, I was happy, I was alive.
And then I had a relapse.
But let me start the story from Her.
It’s my lady cat – Missy. She’s 5. I absolutely love her. She is all about elegance and grace. She walks, sits, eats and sleeps in a princess like manner. She’s very kind and quiet.  And even though she’s “all about her” character – I know she loves be back as much as I her.
She was my BF cat.
I remember him telling “I have a cat” on the first date. I thought “What a hell? Something must be wrong with you?… A bodybuilder and a cat?” the picture just did not fit. Later on I’d discovered that it was his ex-girlfriend that was missing in that picture. She had wanted a cat as a gift so he’s got her one and after they broke up – she left him and her cat for good. I’d though we’ll never make friends with Missy, but very soon we made a family. We hung out together all the time. She liked sleeping with me, together we were looking at the fashion blogs for inspiration :))
My BF called us “My skinny girls” And I couldn’t bear a though of losing her. Ever.
Missy never liked being outside. From time to time we were letting her out but she never left our back yard and we could spot her though the window anytime.

One sunny day of July Missy went out and did not came back – nor that day, nor the other. She was missing for a week and I was looking for her everywhere and anywhere I could possibly thought of. One day I got a call from the animal shelter. I was informed that someone brought a Russian blue to them, so I rushed there. As I entered the hall with the cages full of all unwanted or found animals my heart sunk. I approached little kitty in grey fur just like Missy, took the shaking and trembling cat to my arms but it wasn’t her… for more than an hour I couldn’t let go of that little homeless creature that needed love as much as the other twenty three imprisoned there. I wept. I couldn’t handle it. The pain was unbearable. After leaving the shelter I rushed to the nearest supermarket – I needed to calm down and all I could think of was food. I binged and purged heavily that day. And the next one and the next and the next and the next… I stopped exercising. I pushed away my BF yet again. I WANTED MY CAT and I was losing hope ever finding her. This was the feeling I couldn’t deal with. It continued for a month (Missy was still missing) and the situation was getting out of control. Bulimia blossomed…
My BF saw me getting skinny again, sad, angry and lost – he approached me and I told him that I’d returned to my ED.  He packed our things and took me to Paris for a weekend. He knew I loved Paris and in Paris I once again promised to recover.

After returning home my wonderful man suggested getting a new cat. NO. I was not excited at all. I wanted my Missy. No other cat could have replaced her. NO!!! (…to be continued)