recovery

My life is a constant recollection.

99% of the time, I feel like a complete f*ck-up in grown up’s clothing.

Moving can be a traumatic experience. We often forget how many remnants of the past we hold onto—whether intentionally or accidentally, just because we put a letter away in a drawer and forgot about it.

Netflix’s latest drama 'To The Bone' just emphasizes the inequity in eating disorder treatment options. The main character, Ellen, is a white, 20-year-old woman who is struggling with a serious eating disorder. I watched as she entered yet another inpatient treatment center and her loving family stood by her. Frame after frame, I saw myself and grew angry for the people who were suffering and wouldn’t be able to identify, whether it was because of their race, support system, or lack of resources.

Eating disorder recovery isn’t magic — at least, not at first. It’s so normal for your brain to try and justify adopting another rule-ridden lifestyle.

To take care of myself in the months preceding my wedding I had to make a conscious effort to not dive into dieting. Wedding weight loss was off the list of things for me to do, or to even attempt.

I have sought out solitude my entire life — up until pretty recently, it was a hard thing to come by. 

Perhaps the reason I’m so self-conscious about people seeing my ankles is that I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that the scars were my own fault. My father has severe addiction issues, along with a temper that would make Cruella de Vil cower. Rationally, I know he was probably half asleep and high as a kite when he made me that bowl of soup. Still, a part of me has always felt that I must have done something to deserve what happened.