Like a lot of people, I’m recovering from quite a few things. One of those things is an eating disorder that developed in elementary school and I finally tackled after college.
I’ve felt fairly solid, if not incremental, in my eating disorder recovery. It took a long time to get me here, and I sacrificed a tooth or two in the process, but with a lot of therapy and introspection and unpacking, I’ve gotten myself onto fairly solid ground for the past decade-ish.
(The neck injury certainly sped up the trajectory of that by completely rewiring my relationship with my body, but that’s for another time).
It’s frustrating to realize this beast I thought I’d conquered, hadn’t been vanquished, but had just gone dormant. She got small and quiet, less powerful. I thought she was gone, but she reared her ugly head this month.
I recognized her, and I named her. I was honest with my therapist and when she asked me why I thought I was skipping meals again, I started to cry. I hadn’t cried in awhile.
I know it’s because I’m tired. Because I’m depleted. Because I’ve over-committed and spread myself too thin and stopped doing the things that keep that little beast in her cage. I’m staying up late and scrolling too long and holding my breath and running for hours and skipping meditations and snapping at everyone around me.
And my beast draws her power from secrecy, she feeds off my shame. So when I push back the curtain and reveal her, she shrinks and withers.
I didn’t start skipping my meditations because I’m lazy. I’m not staying up late because I’m stupid. My recovery took a hit because my disease opened the door for relapse by whispering again and again “You don’t deserve to be taken care of.” She talks me out of dinner and into an extra mile.
But she is not me and her lies are not true. I recognize her voice and I will not listen to her. When I sat down to write this I thought I was confessing a relapse. But instead, I think I’ve unlocked another level of my recovery.
I know I haven’t vanquished her, that’s no longer the point. She will likely live with me my whole life. I will no longer battle her. I will live with her and do my best to soothe and silence her. I will bring her food and flowers and remind her to sleep. I will remember her voice and dismiss her lies. I will sing her songs of fall and spring, of rebirth and the value of decay.
I will unleash myself bit by bit. My incremental recovery. My incredible life.
Pretty Good Ugly 