Life Beyond Recovery
The moment we accept that we will only ever tread water is the same moment we cease to dream about being able to swim across the lake.
The moment we accept that we will only ever tread water is the same moment we cease to dream about being able to swim across the lake.
I am still excited, motivated, and determined for 2019. It just looks a little different in my world.
I do not lack hope. I believe deeply in hope. Sometimes I just don’t know how to tap into it. Sometimes I don’t know how to let that carry me.
Sometimes I’m not okay. Today is one of those days.
The point of this isn’t to tell you that self-love is this made up, unobtainable fairytale that you should give up on. No, the point is, is that I don’t want you to look at my Instagram page on a day when you’re struggling and beat yourself up because it seems like my journey is all sunshine and roses.
I fought like hell to recover from anorexia so I could have healthy happy kids someday. But statistics say those who have a relative with anorexia are ten times more likely to have an eating disorder themselves.
Being the baby, and the only girl sibling in the family, made for an interesting dynamic. There is something about the love between older brothers and their baby sister that even the strongest of hate cannot infiltrate.
We became best friends in what felt like an instant. I loved her with my whole heart, and I know full well that she loved me with all of hers. I promised her that I was not just going to keep getting help while she was alive, but that I would continue to fight once she was gone.
As a recovering hard-core dieter turned bulimic, and then turned anorexic, I feel fairly qualified to speak about the diet industry. I’ve been overweight, I’ve been underweight, and I’ve been everywhere in between. Dieting won’t work.
It’s funny isn’t it? How the one thing we fear most in this world, that we try desperately with all we have to avoid, tends to be the one thing that never fails to come our way?