“Do you have any friends?” the guy next to me asked during
the greeting time at church. We both laughed because the question came across
all wrong. Of course he meant to ask if I was finding people in LA since I’m
semi-new to the area. But it made me think—do I have friends here???
When
I stepped off the plane on June 3rd, I didn’t know a soul in LA.
Even my brother who normally lives in Malibu was in Philly for the summer. I
was completely alone, yet it didn’t feel much different from my daily life. I
had friends at school and back home, but very few of them knew the “ugly” me.
They only knew my “pretty” side: the cute bubbly Georgia peach. They saw me as
a high achieving student, a dedicated gymnast and crossfitter, a fun sorority
girl, and a passionate RUF leader. And the select few I let in, only saw
glimpses of my reality that I quickly minimized. Although I was all those
things, there was a whole secret life I was living, which was the farthest
thing from pretty. I was ashamed of my eating disorder and did everything
possible to hide it.
But
in treatment, I couldn’t hide anymore. As hard as I tried—I even told my
therapist my life was none of her business (sorry, Ally)—I no longer could wrap
my life in a pretty bow. Not within the doors of Monte Nido. Slowly but surely,
I allowed myself to be vulnerable. It is the hardest, scariest thing for me to
do. Still. But because of this vulnerability, I have formed a family. I am no
longer alone.
I
have therapists who listen to how hard it is, who challenge my eating disorder
voice, who help me see new perspectives. I have friends who join along side me
in recovery. They hold me as tears stream down my face while we sit and talk on
the beach. They take me to get donuts when I’ve planned to never eat again. They
remind me why I am doing this in the first place. And my friends see me even
when I have lost sight of who I am outside my eating disorder.
This
process is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and yet I know I have a family
cheering me on. My parents and siblings, my friends from all phases of life, my
therapists, and I’m sure many more. So even though it’s hard, at least I’m not
doing this alone anymore.
This
family reminds me how blessed I am. They point me towards the love of God and
display His grace every day. Reminding me I am worthy through Christ, my family
lifts me up from the depth of my raging eating disorder. I never have to be
alone again.
So
in response to the guy sitting next to me in church, I don’t just have friends,
I have a whole family.
