7 Years of Recovery

7 years ago, I was hospitalized for my eating disorder and haven’t looked back (as in stopped trying. I definitely relapsed quite a bit)

I never saw this day as important until a year after my hospitalization. My parents gave me a card for my “recovery anniversary.” They congratulated me and shed light on an accomplishment that I didn’t even know was an accomplishment.

Part of my was uncomfortable with it because I don’t like days being celebrated for me, but the other part of me was thinking, “wait no-I did this!!”

And I do! And I deserve to celebrate it!

So, this year I have I decided to write about it. Writing has been an outlet for me from day one of recovery. I’ve noticed my writing has taken a shift from self-blame to self-compassion.

It has allowed me to create a space where I can reject any lingering negative narratives I have about myself, make sense of my eating disorder and how it developed, and offer myself the love and care I didn’t know how to give myself as a child.

I’ve been able to accept I was never at fault and neither were those who didn’t know how to help at the time.

I’m focusing on healing my inner critic, less on what happened and more on how I felt, and how to forgive myself for decisions I no longer agree with.

I’m proud to be celebrating 7 years of healing and am excited to see where the rest of my recovered life takes me!

A 7-year Reflection on Recovery

When I look back, I feel so much pain for that little girl. God, I wouldn’t wish her suffering upon anyone. I wish she could’ve enjoyed her life growing up. Like, actually enjoyed. I wish someone was there, someone to tell her that she is special exactly how she is, someone to let her know that she can gain control of her life in a way that isn’t destructive. I wish someone was there to look her in the eye and let her know that whats happening isn’t her fault.

I wish she didn’t fall through the cracks, I wish someone said something sooner. The lack of awareness others had nearly measured up to that lack of awareness she had of herself. I wish someone made her voice feel heard and like it actually mattered. I wish she had gotten healthy. I wish she joined clubs and made genuine connections. I wish she played sports and moved her body in ways she enjoyed. I wish she had the energy and capacity to have gotten better grades so she wouldn’t have been rejected by the college she wanted to go to. I wish she felt secure within her relationships, secure within herself. I wish she had a sense of self and what had defined her. I wish she was encouraged to do more, to say more, to advocate for, to embrace for who she truly was at the core. I wish she felt like she had a place for emotional safety, but she didn’t. Those internal conflicts, those feelings that felt unacceptable, they got displaced into her body and nearly killed her.

If that little girl felt seen after countless attempts to show up, she would’ve thrived. She would have a light in her eyes that radiated a sense of confidence and self-acceptance. She would’ve had passion, she would’ve known how capable she truly is and she would’ve acted on that. God, she would’ve been powerful.

God, she can still be powerful.

She has grown into a woman who can trust her instincts. She knows she has a unique voice, perspective, and place in this world. She is learning who she is, she is defining herself in much different ways. The story she tells about herself is empowering and the words she speaks to herself are kind.

She is not a problem, she never was.