The Fence

I’ve been sitting on it for many months now. One foot in each world. One world is the madness of the eating disorder. Using every behavior I possibly can, resorting to actions I haven’t done in years. Letting the depression take over until I feel hopeless and unworthy of life. The other foot is in life. Going to school, being with friends, exploring new things and giving myself grace and compassion.

The problem is I don’t know how to find the gray area in anything. I swing so wildly between the two that it becomes a plastered smile on my face until I can sulk away and use the coping mechanisms I’ve known for so long.

I’ve been lying to myself. Saying I’m in recovery. Saying my using behaviors is only a one-time thing. That this is the last time I will go running until my chest hurts, and this is the last time I will purge until there is nothing left but stomach bile. This is the last time I will go a day without eating. I’m in recovery. I’m fine. I only do these behaviors once every few weeks so it doesn't really count.

The truth is I haven’t been in recovery. And last week my therapist asked me what it would take for me to get off the fence. To stop lingering in between these two worlds, having a foot back in my eating disorder life in case things get too hard.

I’ve thought for many days about my answer. And the only thing I could come up with is I want to want to get off the fence. I’m so scared to jump off the edge and throw myself back into life because I don’t want it to be from a false place. I no longer want to be that poster child for recovery and act like I have no struggles.

All I know is for the past 8 days I’ve eaten three meals a day. It may not sound like a big deal but I haven’t done that since I left treatment for the last time in April. I gave up my diet pills and diuretics and I’m taking it one day at a time. And for the first time in forever I actually feel like I am in control of my life again. And it feels pretty good.