So very beautiful.
Recovery is so very beautiful. I am feeling brave, embarking on a renewed journey into recovery in the midst of the most trying time of the year-the holidays. This year I look forward to the challenge it imposes … the unending sweets, resisting the temptation to eat the spoon of frosting, or that fourth Christmas tree cookie. Then the other side of bulimia will surface; the years of suppressed feelings, emotive explosions, terrifying anxiety … I am prepared, with my self-care lists piled in my purse, speed dial set to my most supportive confidantes.
Don’t get me wrong—it WILL be difficult.
A part of me will want to cry out, scream, and protest that this is incorrigible. How dare I? The hissing skinny bitch, staring back wide-eyed and aghast. That side of my double image will have already meticulously calculated the distance between the Christmas buffet table and the restroom, the of calories that are consumed in every morsel that crosses my lips.
This not-so-skinny bitch is altering her ideals this season … ideals symbolizing self-determination to recover, revive, determined to fight this harrowing battle once and for all.
Naturally my days oscillate between tension and movement, self-worship and self-degradation, but no longer will I be attempting to sate a greater need.
There is no greater need than the need to be free.