Recovery take 2... worth it?

I've been thinking long and hard about some stuff. The first decision I made, is that I want to revert to my vegetarian ways. Vegan is too restrictive for me at the moment, and I fear that the more I become entrenched in denying myself things, whether that's for ethical reasons or not, the harder it becomes for me to loosen my grip on my disordered eating habits. That's not to say that all vegans are disordered. Far from it. But for me, at this moment in time, I need to feel calm, I need to focus on my work and being happy(er) and healthy, and cutting out two whole food groups is feeling a little overwhelming right now. It took about a week of thinking for me to come to this decision, especially since I felt so much guilt over my choice to slowly start phasing dairy back into my diet, but I can't afford to be so harsh on myself, or my eating habits, at this moment in time. I'm sorry if that sounds pathetic. I won't be eating butter and full fat milk any time soon, but I'm definitely going to stop paying attention to small print and derivative ingredients, because it's doing my head in. Maybe in a month or so I'll be able to eat some philly on toast or something without freaking out. I need to feel normal again. I do not feel normal - at all - recently. 

It dawned on me that this exact time last year, was the period of time when I truly, seriously started to consider recovering from my eating disorder. In all fairness, I'd had a pretty big wake-up call, after being urgently admitted to hospital for an 8-day stay following one of my worst ED phases to date. I had given myself two reactive blood disorders, a ruined immune system, a 'deranged' liver (as my doctors described it), and chronic fatigue due to my poor eating habits, and bulimic behaviours which involved bingeing, purging through laxatives and fasting, and compensatory restricting that had been going on for years. So, as you can imagine, I realised it was time to say enough was enough, and I did my very best over those next few months to recover - both physically and mentally - from what had happened to me. 

Today, I looked at my scatty, erratic eating patterns, the neuroses I still have over certain parts of my diet and routine and weight, my obsession with numbers that refuses to die, my hold-ups about my body, my ruined self-esteem. Where did all that positive thinking last year go? What had my attempt at 'recovery' come to? A year on, I'm still riddled with the same scarily obsessive thoughts, the same compulsions to binge on almost a nightly basis and an equal amount of compulsion to restrict my diet in whatever way I can. I still look at the scales twice a day, stepping on ten times to make sure the number's right, and every time, I want to bash them against the wall or my own head because I fucking hate the sight of my own weight in digits. 

I need to get back to 'normal' again. Somehow. I've thrown my scales into a place I can't reach them without serious effort. I'm not weighing until I feel I can handle it emotionally, without it becoming a binge/restrict trigger. Maybe I'll pussy out. Maybe I'll want to starve every second of it. Maybe I'll still binge, because that's an easy kneejerk reaction to wanting to get better. But I need to do this, whether it's worth it or not, because you know what? I don't want to be fucking ill when I go to uni in October. It's not fair. I don't deserve it. 

Sorry for this little inane ranting session. I'll probably wake up tomorrow morning and wonder what on earth it was I was trying to get across.