Do Not Get Me Wrong.

When you’re not shown the full picture, your brain fills in the gaps with its own ideas. It's human. And quite honestly, it probably saves our sanity. We'd go crazy trying to make sense of everything we don't know.

So, I can see how speaking from experience, with knowledge and conviction, can come across as me being "healed." Of course it does. I haven't shown you otherwise, so you've filled in the gaps.

I have big ideas. I have deep knowledge. I see the bigger picture, and I'm living proof that things can look up. But, I don't always use the knowledge I have. I can fall into rabbit holes, believing that these big ideas will become reality for everyone but myself. And sometimes, no matter how big the picture is, the eating disorder still wins.

So, for the sake of offering you the unfiltered conversations I promised, I want to show you the parts of my journey that are a little harder to see.

Where am I really at with recovery?

I'm in a giant transitional period in my life.

After being in the hospital due to my eating disorder, I left my job. Shortly after, I left my home city and have been in treatment, one way or another, ever since.

Now, I'm working on reintegrating myself back into society. Finding work. Deciding where I want to live. Figuring out what on earth I'm going to do with this newfound freedom I've gotten from treatment.

My dog is sick, and I'll be saying goodbye to 13 years with him in the very, very near future.

The financial burden of all the treatment I needed is heavy and some days it feels overwhelming. 

Honestly, I'm scared.

I'm scared of how my recovery will hold up against all of these life stressors. I'm scared that when I’m overwhelmed by big life decisions and discomfort, I'll resort to the easiest way I know how to shut it up.

I'm scared that I'll dwell in just how euphoric it felt to try to control my body through behaviors that were slowly killing me.

I'm still learning how to live without the thing that once consumed at least 15 years of my life. Recovery is new for me. 

In the grand scheme of things, I can't even consider my first three years of treatment, "recovery".

It kept me sick.

Big pieces of my disorder were neglected by the professionals who were supposed to be helping me. And at the end of those three years, I was the sickest I'd ever been.

So, when I talk about being in recovery, I'm talking about something so much newer than you might think.

I've only been in what I consider true recovery for four months.

I know I can't expect to undo it all in four months.

This is going to be a long, long process. I expect to spend years working toward full freedom from the disorder.

And I think it's important that you know what that actually looks like.

Because recovery doesn't mean I suddenly trust my body. It doesn't mean the fear has disappeared. And it certainly doesn't mean I've mastered the very thing I'm still fighting to free myself from.

I still have moments every single day when I can't trust this process.

Sometimes I can't trust that I can nourish my body without needing to control what happens to it. I feel the need to eat the exact same things every day because “sameness equals control”, and “control equals a smaller body”, in my disordered brain.

I still skip meals sometimes. I still reduce portions. I still restrict myself from having what I want because I'm afraid of the calories it might contain.

I still have anxious moments when I feel like I need to walk the calories of the day off.

I still have urges to purge. Urges to compensate.

I still need my therapist to call me out on the thought patterns that could send me spiraling back into a dangerous place. I still need support. I still need accountability. I still need to be reminded that the voice I have trusted for a lifetime, is the same voice that nearly killed me.

I'm still fighting for the freedom I talk about. I'm still trying to build a life that doesn't revolve around the disorder. 

I’m still learning how to live in a body that I spent my life trying to control. I still struggle so deeply with experiencing the pain of life without reaching for my disorder.

In reality, I still have an eating disorder.

I'm not writing this from the other side of recovery.

I'm writing this from the middle of it.

So please, don’t get me wrong. 

I struggle. 

I am IN IT. I am NOT above it. 

Maybe that’s something I need you to understand about this process. 

Choosing it does not make me immune to the disorder. 

You can be knowledgeable about your disorder and still bargain with it. 

You can know exactly where a thought comes from, and still believe it. 

You can know exactly what you need to do, and yet still have days where it feels impossible to do it.

So, if you have read what I’ve written before and thought “dang, she has it figured out”...

I don’t.

But I’ve experienced enough freedom, to know that I want more.

I have to keep choosing this.