The Journey Begins

Thanks for joining me, buckle up because I am a human roller coaster. Just kidding, kind of.

I’ve been going back and forth in my head about starting this blog. What will people think of me? Do I want to be “that girl” for the rest of my life?

I think I decided. Maybe, for now.

I am really lucky, I want to start off by saying that I know I am lucky. I am really fortunate to be in the position I am, I have an education, I come from a family that has money and had the ability to send me to treatment, to go to therapy, to take time off from school…the list goes on and on.

So I think that’s why I need to speak out. So here we go. Welcome!!!

I have wrote a lot about my eating disorder. Mostly in the past, sometimes now in the present when I’m feeling like giving the world a piece of my recovering mind. But for the most part, I have been quiet. I have so much to say though. I know when I wrote previously it was mostly about being stuck in a cell with my anorexia.

I wanted to get better. I really did. I remember writing a month before I was hospitalized about my ED voice in my head. I remember how raw and real I was in that post. About how she yelled at me to keep running along 519 even when I could feel my body shutting down. I remember sharing that blog post and the people who in turn reached out to me giving me unsolicited advice, assuring me I wasn’t alone, offering any sort of emotional support. If you were one of those people, that I so quickly pushed away or said “yeah I’m fine now” “hahaha that was from forever ago!” or “thanks so much for *insert their advice here* totally gonna give that a try!!” Then I’m sorry I was so disingenuous with you. I was sick. I was stuck.

Five years ago I was hospitalized and that was the first time I thought “oh fuck this is not good.”

But I couldn’t stop. It felt so impossible. I remember pleading to God in a hospital bed that I could stop feeling this way about myself. Stop obsessing about food. Stop obsessing over the circumference of my thighs and the width of my waist. But I couldn’t do it. Or maybe I didn’t want to yet.

I faked my way out of the hospital and out of residential treatment, then out of IOP and OP. I posted positive quotes and used the term recovering. It was all a farce.

See I can say I wanted to recover but I don’t know if I did back then. Shit, sometimes I don’t know if I want to now. I was so hyper focused on my body being sick, as the only way to prove I was unwell, that I was hurt and in pain. I couldn’t use my words. I still struggle with this, but I thankfully have people in my corner that help me use my words today even when I can’t string together sentences at times.

There is no hell quite like a sick mind in a healthy body, and that’s really what has drove me from recovery to relapse every single time.

For the past five years I have just been in and out of quasi recovery. I have thrown away many scales only to buy a new one a week later. I have tried every “healthy diet” under the sun, only to leap back into the warm embrace (deathly grips) of anorexia.

On January 1st, 2019 I decided I had enough. Mostly because everyone around me was beginning to notice my behaviors. My hair was falling out in the shower. I felt like i was dying with every step I took but I was becoming obsessed with tacking them anyway. I was tired and cranky and lying and manipulating and honestly I just had enough. I made donuts and ate them and cried. From January to May I was back and forth. I would do well for a week do bad for a couple days and the cycle continued. Then in the beginning of May I made a decision that changed my life.

I decided to be live for me and waive a white flag.

And let me tell you, that was a shit show, but without that decision and all the chaos and beauty that came with, I would not be able to say that I have been in recovery since May of 2019. I wouldn’t be able to say that I threw out my scale. I wouldn’t be able to say that I eat snacks (and sometimes dinner) after 6 PM. I wouldn’t be able to say that I drink milk! I wouldn’t be able to say that, all in all, I am happy.

Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton

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