I was never supposed to live this long; my life should have ended years ago when I let anorexia take the reins of my future and burry me alive. As December 15th approaches, it will mark 2 glorious years in full recovery—2 years since the day I began the rest of my life. It has been quite the rollercoaster that can only be described through my 5 senses
Smell:
For 4 months I was imprisoned within the thick white walls of an eating disorder unit where the only normalcy is the routine you learn after being admitted into the hospital.It’s that routine that provides patients with a solid foundation to rebuild their lives. Being discharged from the hospital didn’t make recovery a reality until I walked into my home for the first time in months—the fresh scent of clean laundry became the first building block to my new life. The smell of powder fresh detergent became a crucial piece in my life; it quickly became a symbol of my new freedom.
Hear:
From my early middle school years, the voices that once called me “stupid”, “ugly”, “fat” and even “worthless” consumed my mind long after we graduated.For 6 years I carried these voices in the dwelling of my head that it became nearly impossible hear my own voice. Recovery starts a war between your head and heart. You’ll say to yourself out loud that you have a wonderful smile while your head is screaming “liar”. As days turn to months, you’ll soon hear less from your head and more from your heart. More importantly compliments from those around you will be heard rather than dismissed.
Taste:
In the height of my illness I never once feared death, just food. The thought of consuming a single calorie was enough to send me hiding. My time in treatment taught me the power of communication. Every patient was required to sit in the dining room for every meal where rather than discussing the meal at hand, we talked about our goofy pets, dream vacations to see the northern lights and bickered over who the best “contact” player was. Little by little, day by day, food began to develop a taste and even become a reward throughout my day. 2 years later I am proud to say that I continue eating on the same schedule I was on while in treatment and that I have discovered my true passion for cooking.
Touch:
Recovery became everyone’s warm embrace. A hug stood for all the things I could not quite say, for the emotions I couldn’t fathom, and all the anxiety revolved around recovery. It became my father’s way of silently saying “I love you” and my mother’s way of taking all the pain away. More than that though, I have the strength to chase my dogs and pet them in the calming of the night. That’s what recovery is—being strong enough to live the life that makes you happy
Sight:
The very first thing an eating disorder patient must come to understand is that the last step in recovery is falling in love with yourself. With scars decorating my arms like railroad tracks covered in snow along with the new healthy figure I was forced to grow into, it felt impossible to live inside a body I didn’t even recognize. But soon after being discharged I picked back up on my routine morning mantra—I have beautiful brown eyes. Long and behold, I am 2 years in recovery with confidence stronger than any known superpower. From my eyes, to hips, all the way down to my toes, I see beauty. Recovery is beautiful and so am I.
