There is an attempt to change yourself when you step into recovery. You have to re-write everything you know, unlearn years of thinking that was never quite right and had been leading to nothing more than your destruction. It’s not about starting again, nor is it about forgetting but it’s about accepting and letting go. It’s understanding that there is something so much more than just starving yourself into oblivion with the hope that it will make you happy, or help you like yourself just a bit. Changing your shape, your weight or your size will not make you better. There is no happily ever after when you reach that magical number, there is no conclusion, only the belief that you could go a bit further but by that time you are just simply dying.
I have spent 14 years spinning in circles, chasing something that is just an illusion. In that time I had never tried to recover. I told myself it wasn’t that serious, that important, then I told myself that I wanted it to kill me. The change came when I wasn’t ready for it. I was mostly still in denial, thought I could handle it and that everyone was blowing everything out of proportion. I was wrong. I spent 5 months in treatment and left in January. This thin thread that holds me to recovery is delicate, but it is astonishing that it is still there and I am still trying.
So this is my journey about finding out how to live and be alive but mostly be free.