Relapse

It's been a long time. Just over 10 years after my last relapse and just under 20 years after first falling into this pit.
The time between recovering 6 years ago and the relapse now has been good, very good in fact. I found myself, I found my place in life, I found people to share my life with (and really share it with, not just live alongside them). Maybe I'll write more about this another time. Today is about my most recent relapse.
I don't even know why I relapsed. Seriously, there is no real reason as far as I can see. I knew my triggers and I knew when to be careful. I've had a few relapse-scares over the last years but I've always managed to pull through and get out before I got in too deep. Not this time. There was no warning, no danger signs, nothing out of the ordinary. I was (and still am) happy with myself, I've learnt to like and love myself including my body no matter what I look like. This hasn't gone. What has gone is the ability to eat. I just can't. I've fallen back into thinking about calories, avoiding meals whenever I can (and since I'm not living alone any longer this has become rather difficult), pretending. The switch in my head is flicked the wrong way and I can't get it back to normal.
Somehow I feel like I've come home. I've embraced my ED like a long lost friend. This is what scares me shitless: the fact that I've managed to not relapse during really hard times and instead just handed myself over to my ED when all was going really well.
The thought cycles have once more begun: I want to get out but at the same time I keep thinking I can still get out in a few months, let me lose some weight first.
I'm scared of what this will mean to my future. I'm risking everything I love and I can't stop even though I want to. I feel like I went on one of those scary fun-rides and deliberately chose not to wear my seatbelt. This is reckless and stupid and if I could go back I would in an instant. But there is no going back, only fighting through.