October 5th, 2016.
It has been exactly one year tomorrow since that Wednesday evening that I sat my parents down and told them I was suffering from a mental illness that made me starve myself to the point of complete self destruction.
As I write, I am sitting on my couch in my apartment, I have a midterm in two hours that I really should be reviewing for – but I got an overwhelming urge that told me to take a deep breath, to open my blog and to see where I go with it.
So here I am, a year has past and looking back I am completely overwhelmed with the amount of ups, downs and changes that have taken place.
There are triumphs that took place then, they may seem so minor to some, even in comparison to where I am now in my recovery journey. I recall the first week of treatment – I couldn’t even go pee without my mother sitting outside the bathroom door to ensure that I wasn’t trying to force myself to throw up. I remember the amount of sleepless nights, trying to come up with ways to lose more weight or to place my hands over my body and measure the parts that I didn’t like. Not to mention the time my mom caught me trying to throw food down the toilet when she momentarily looked away.
Today: I chose friends over social anxiety, I chose to pick one thing from my body (this morning I chose lips) to be thankful for and love, I chose to Ace this midterm because this year I am healthy enough to be enrolled in school to one day fulfill my aspirations.
In my appointment yesterday, it was a good hour of reflection over the past year. There was time to recognize the celebratory moments and there was time to consider the healing that still really needs to take place.
My emotion and ability to express it to those close to me has always been an incredible struggle for me. To the point that my last few therapy sessions have the repetitive question, “how has your close, vulnerable relations been this past week?” It’s a work in progress.
I leave for a vacation with Cody on the weekend and my basic concerns for Australia prior to leaving are presently still here for Mexico. I worry about the food – how its prepared and what control I have over it. I am concerned about the amount of people that I have to eat in front, and even the bodies on the beach that I will instinctively compare myself to.
I think back to last October, when I had my first sip of alcohol in what felt like forever – due to fear of liquid calories. Or back to November, when I strayed away from my only comfort food (bananas) and added peanut butter to the mix (a HUGE deal in my books). I want to enjoy my vacation with Cody, as fearless of calories as possible. I cannot let my eating disorder stop me from enjoying our time.
This past year has held some highs and some extreme lows. But all in all, I went from wanting death more than eating a single calorie to *timidly* wanting to kick anorexias ass.
This is my last week at Starbucks, I have made the decision based off of whats best for me and my disorder and it is time for me to move on. I am starting a new chapter with serving that I am really excited for. Starbucks will me incredibly missed! The past two and a bit years has held so many blessings within the job.
I am still scared day in a day out. There are moments that I feel more alone and drowning in my thoughts but then there are days that I can celebrate each triumph of that day.
As I sit here and conclude my blog post I hold a Starbucks chai latte in my hand. I smile and thank the Lord for all his goodness – just 8 months ago I was crying over the idea of putting a PINCH of milk in my coffee. Today I am drinking a latte with confidence, knowing that I can live a happy life drinking as many damn lattes as I please.
“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.”