Restarting the Recovery Clock
I watched those ten years on my recovery clock decrease back down to zero. It felt as though every bit of hard work that I’d sewn into my recovery had been undone.
Topic: eating disorder
I watched those ten years on my recovery clock decrease back down to zero. It felt as though every bit of hard work that I’d sewn into my recovery had been undone.
Pregnancy is a demanding process, but it’s also nearly enough to trigger a recovered anorexic like me into a frenzy.
Most of my "ideals" or things folks call "resolutions" around this time of year aren't actually what I want for myself but are what I assume others want for me.
We’re taught and encouraged to feel and honor a single emotion when the holiday season is upon us.
I was right, in a way, about the day the elevator opened: I could never go back again.
My stomach is full, which feels wrong, but I know it’s not.
I knew then that things would never be the same from that point forward: the anorexia as resistance, the depression as loss of control, the fleeing to another country as delusion, the dying and then not dying and then dying and then not dying.
Depression is not a bad part of my personality or a flaw in my character.
Amidst all the things I couldn’t control, there before me was something I could: my weight.
My eating disorder looks quiet to the outside world.
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