Three years ago I was sitting in a cloth covered plastic chair reviewing a plan I had spent hours writing and erasing and then rewriting and re-erasing. My hands were sweaty, my heart rate was through the roof and I felt nauseous. I was nervous to say the least. Part of treatment that day had been to write out your 3 month recovery plan. A plan that would produce a reward. This reward would be given to you by your parents after 3 months of successful eating. 3 months of eating 3 meals a day, including snacks. At the time, this amount of food seemed impossible to me. This goal seemed out of reach. But, somewhere deep, deep, deep down I believed in myself. And so there I sat, in the middle of a circle of 16 people (my parents included) with my clammy hands gripping the piece of printer paper holding my recovery plan. I was asking for a trip to New York City. I had never been to New York City and as a senior in high school obsessed with theater (I still am obsessed with theater by the way), I figured why the heck not. 3 months of successful eating seemed outlandish to me, so adding a trip to NYC seemed to match up on the level of outlandish-ness (new word, I probably made it up). I read my plan, I cried, people hugged me and it was over. I spent a week in San Diego in treatment and then went home.
Eating was hard after that. No, it wasn't hard-it was hell. Coming off of an addiction is hell. In my case, and the case of millions of others, it's being addicted to restriction. Coming off of an addiction is reteaching yourself everything in a new way. It's not a lightswitch kind of effect, it's a rebuilding the whole damn house kind of effect. It's changing your lifestyle, your mindset, your behavior, your relationships and everything in between. It's making your way through a foam pit kind of difficult. It's brutally hard work, but I learned much later, that it's good work. So I ate. I struggled, I cried, I failed, I fought, but ultimately I ate. I ate for 3 months straight. Not every meal was perfect, but grace was given abundantly. And so my parents, gave me my 3-month reward as promised. My parents sent my mom and I to NYC for a couple of days and it was magical. It was full and it was new. But to be honest, it was hard. I was out of my normal routine, I was eating foods that I feared and I was surrounded by the unknown. BUT I knew I would, eventually, be stronger than my ED.
Fast forward 3 years, here I am. In this picture I'm sitting 103 stories high on a (stronger than) plexiglass ledge overlooking all of Chicago. That was yesterday. Ever since that sweet, nervous little girl sat in the middle of a therapy circle reading her 3-month plan, my parents continue to surprise me with these Christmas Break trips. These trips are meaningful to say the least. These trips are full of sacred moments with my mom that I want to squeeze so tightly and never take for granted. It's time spent laughing watching TLC, time spent exchanging awkward eye contact while your UBER driver stops in the middle of the highway and time spent growing a relationship with the one who grew me. I love these trips with my mom, but most of all I love my mom. She's a warrior, the Queen and everything in between.
These trips remind me of where I've been and how I'm growing. Each trip gets easier, as far as eating goes. Life is still hard and full of ups and downs. But, time becomes sweeter, life becomes lighter and love gets stronger each year. This year marks our third trip, and it was the best one yet. It was full of pure love and delight for life and for each other.
So here's to all of you strong mamas holding and loving your sweet babies who are fighting against ED-keep holding. Hope is here. Here's to all you powerhouses fighting against your ED-keep fighting. Hope is here. And here's to me beginning my third year of recovery! Hope is here. Recovery looks a lot like pain, but also a lot like joy. It looks a lot like completing a triathalon, winded and scarred. It's hard, brutal work but it's also possible, rewarding work. Keep fighting, you moonbeams!!
Hope is here.
Sincerely,
Me
Eating was hard after that. No, it wasn't hard-it was hell. Coming off of an addiction is hell. In my case, and the case of millions of others, it's being addicted to restriction. Coming off of an addiction is reteaching yourself everything in a new way. It's not a lightswitch kind of effect, it's a rebuilding the whole damn house kind of effect. It's changing your lifestyle, your mindset, your behavior, your relationships and everything in between. It's making your way through a foam pit kind of difficult. It's brutally hard work, but I learned much later, that it's good work. So I ate. I struggled, I cried, I failed, I fought, but ultimately I ate. I ate for 3 months straight. Not every meal was perfect, but grace was given abundantly. And so my parents, gave me my 3-month reward as promised. My parents sent my mom and I to NYC for a couple of days and it was magical. It was full and it was new. But to be honest, it was hard. I was out of my normal routine, I was eating foods that I feared and I was surrounded by the unknown. BUT I knew I would, eventually, be stronger than my ED.
Fast forward 3 years, here I am. In this picture I'm sitting 103 stories high on a (stronger than) plexiglass ledge overlooking all of Chicago. That was yesterday. Ever since that sweet, nervous little girl sat in the middle of a therapy circle reading her 3-month plan, my parents continue to surprise me with these Christmas Break trips. These trips are meaningful to say the least. These trips are full of sacred moments with my mom that I want to squeeze so tightly and never take for granted. It's time spent laughing watching TLC, time spent exchanging awkward eye contact while your UBER driver stops in the middle of the highway and time spent growing a relationship with the one who grew me. I love these trips with my mom, but most of all I love my mom. She's a warrior, the Queen and everything in between.
These trips remind me of where I've been and how I'm growing. Each trip gets easier, as far as eating goes. Life is still hard and full of ups and downs. But, time becomes sweeter, life becomes lighter and love gets stronger each year. This year marks our third trip, and it was the best one yet. It was full of pure love and delight for life and for each other.
So here's to all of you strong mamas holding and loving your sweet babies who are fighting against ED-keep holding. Hope is here. Here's to all you powerhouses fighting against your ED-keep fighting. Hope is here. And here's to me beginning my third year of recovery! Hope is here. Recovery looks a lot like pain, but also a lot like joy. It looks a lot like completing a triathalon, winded and scarred. It's hard, brutal work but it's also possible, rewarding work. Keep fighting, you moonbeams!!
Hope is here.
Sincerely,
Me