Sometimes I feel like living in recovery isn’t any better
than living in my eating disorder. Sometimes it feels a lot harder—the lies
about my body, food, exercise, self-worth are all still here; yet, I’m choosing
not to listen to them. Sometimes it seems easier to just give in and stop
fighting all together. At times like this, I have to remember:
There are two paths in
front of me.
The one that is familiar and known is my eating disorder. It
is alluring. It is enticing. It seems like the less strenuous path. However, I
know where this path leads. It dead-ends leaving me alone, depressed, and dying.
I know there is no potential for good
that comes from my eating disorder. I’ve been there, I’ve done that, and I’ve
gained evidence that is not the life I want to live.
The second path is unknown. It is just being paved with each
step I take. I can’t see what lies ahead of the hills. I don’t recognize the
twists and turns. But at least this path has potential for good. And for now, I have to hold onto that hope.
I’m clenching onto the hope that the chatter from behind
trying to convince me to change paths will cease as I continue to move forward.
I’m gripping onto the hope that this path is jam-packed with grace for each
time I stumble or take a few steps backward. I’m not letting go of the hope
that there is a finish line at the end of this road.
The in between of recovery, of no longer wanting my eating
disorder and not yet being recovered, is like climbing Mt. Everest. But I
cannot lose hope. There are many times where I’ve cried out and asked God
why—why me, why an eating disorder, why such the struggle. So many times in
this past month I have begged God for some peace and quiet from my own torturous
thoughts.
But amidst those nights, I also see little glimmers of my
hope coming to life. Moments of singing my favorite song at an amazing Ben
Rector concert (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m2fFKKkcx70). Of standing in awe at the beautiful coast of California. Of meeting Mickey in the most magical place on earth. Of
getting lost in a good book (I’m joining the Harry Potter clan, and I got sorted into Hufflepuff)—these moments
remind me to continue forward. They remind me that there is freedom from my
eating disorder.
So I will trek on,
and I will not lose hope.
