I think I fell in love…with myself (finally)
Recovery can seem like such an ambiguous thing at times, and I’m starting to learn it is a longer journey than just overcoming habits. This week, I put off dealing with the feelings that came from a break up and lived everything to the fullest with my friends. Yet, ED was still in the back of my mind the entire time.
Regardless of whether or not the person I was dating just a week ago says that the relationship ending had anything to do with me, I’m not so sure it didn’t.
For the first time though, I don’t mean it ended because there is something wrong with me. I kind of put all of my happiness and time into one little basket until the basket overflowed. Too, maybe we’re not as well-suited for each other as we thought in the beginning. It wasn’t an intense-long relationship, and so there isn’t much to go on pondering about other than wanting to see him at least smile when we exchange articles of clothes and etcetera that we have of the other’s and be able to admit that it was fun while it lasted. (because…he has a gorgeous smile)
Back to the recovery part…
Today, I spent most of the day alone resting from spending every day out and about, and every night at a different venue/party/bar. I was able to honestly talk to my mother about the problems I’ve had, the things I haven’t opened up about, and even being honest about my self harm.
This week, I’ve realized that no matter where I move, my friends and family will always be the first to step up and lather me with love, hugs, and fun knowing that I will always do the exact same for them.
I’ve realized that I actually don’t hate myself right now, and it’s the best feeling in the world. I even feel this with or without the attention and fun I’ve had.
I love myself enough to have been honest, vulnerable, and was rewarded with my mother at my side talking to the insurance company about my eating disorder, and the process for acquiring a true recovery team.
I love myself enough to FINALLY go and get that damn chantix prescription filled when I get back to Richmond.
I love myself enough to at least try to get past my eating disorder and reclaim all the passion in life I used to have.
The horrible thing about ED is that it takes all of your time, effort, and is never far from your thoughts - in the best of times and the worst of times.
I love myself enough to kick ED out of my life.
I love myself enough to realize associating any small portion of my worth to my flaws, failures, weight, appearance, people’s opinions, and so on and so forth, is only going to fuel the fire and keep me in this pit longer.
I love myself enough to no longer rely on people to validate me.
I love myself enough to treat myself with as much care and value as I do with the people I love in my life. If I don’t take care of myself, eventually, how many people I love or how many people are in my life, etc, won’t matter.
I love myself enough to do more than say or type words, but actually do.
I love myself. It’s such a simple statement, but it means more to me right now and feels greater than I could ever describe.