Recovery. That is a definition that has changed in my
dictionary over the past 6 weeks. 6 weeks ago I felt broken and lost, like I
had failed. I was back in my eating disorder and questioning if I ever really
was in recovery, or if it’s even possible. Maybe this will be my life I
thought, a few years of maintaining no symptoms and then back in the hospital
having failed once again. I came back to treatment 6 weeks ago feeling
shameful. I shouldn’t be back here, I shouldn’t be having any struggles, and I
didn’t even think I had an eating disorder anymore.
I have been reminded in my time here that this is recovery,
falling, asking for help, and getting back on my feet. Before I came back I
always felt like I had to be the poster child of recovery. Never having any problems
or struggles, recovered, cured, must always have a smile on my face to inspire
others. Unfortunately doing that is what landed me back here.
I am no longer the girl with the plastered on smile that helps
everyone else in their recovery and doesn’t have any problems of her own.
That’s not real, that’s not me. I am going to have issues arise, and I am going
to fall on my face again. But doing that and talking to people about that is
what recovery is. I will never be cured, or “over this” it is something I will
need to be cognisant of the rest of my life.
I am returning home tomorrow a completely different girl
than when I left. I am so excited to continue my journey. I know it will be
hard but I am no longer scared because I know out of the struggle comes
strength. I am worth recovery and I deserve this. And for the first time in a
long time I can say that and truly mean it.
