They said that the beginning would be the hardest part.
But why didn't they warn me about halfway? The halfway slope, which rises to an almost vertical climb: steepening and steepening, rising before me like a grim and inaccessible tower. And in the exposed space in my head, the comments wheel and shriek like vultures circling their prey.They bide their time, awaiting the opportune moment, before closing in with talons outstretched, cruel beaks poised to slice flesh and draw blood.
You look healthy now.
Your body looks better than it has done in years.
She has finally recovered from her eating disorder.
She doesn't have anorexia anymore.
And if I could, I would raise my arms and protect myself; but how can I possibly fight something which I know is inevitably, inexplicably, part of this recovery journey in itself? People will look and people will judge; it's part of life; and I would be a fool if I were to go through life expecting people to keep their thoughts to themselves. If you go into the desert, you expect to find vultures. If you make it as far as the land of half recovered, than you have to expect to encounter such comments. That's part of the harsh reality. The harsh reality, of being a supposedly "recovered" anorexic in a harsh, diet-obsessed, thin-loving world.
Its been so long since I last wrote in my blog. But the last time I went to write I found that the words would not come. What to say? What to describe? How to possibly express the feelings and emotions running rampant like racing stormclouds in my head?
They said the beginning was the hardest part. And in this case, perhaps, it was.
But just like the beginning of my first initial recovery journey, four years ago, now, when I realised I had to make some sort of start.
A beginning I will make here, too, on this small and little known blog.
And now is the time to return to my journey, and begin where I left off. The beginning of the hardest part of the journey. The beginning of what is recovery after the halfway mark.
Dear Emmy, I am really glad you have got so far, and I am really sorry it is still so hard! I don't quite know what to say except that I feel for you. It is nearly 20 years since I was experiencing those kinds of comments. From where I sit now, my only real regret is that I didn't reach **real** recovery sooner. The stuff people say, and the misunderstandings and lack of education around mental illness is irrelevant; it is the lost years, the what ifs about how life might have been if I had been well. In the long run, when you are really better, your relationship to other people is not built on whether they understand your illness or what they think about your body or your food. If they don't get those things right, then it doesn't matter because there are other things that are more important. I know you can't just choose to be better all at once, but all I really want to say is bon courage for ploughing onwards. You have done so well to get this far, and you have inhabited the pain of illness with such courage and beauty and dignity. I really respect you in your onward journey and I hope and want to see you flourish at the other side.
ReplyDeletethank you, thank you thank you for this wonderful advice and kind words, it means so much to me and reading it filled me with a true sense of hope <3 xxx
DeleteHalfway, is when you should keep going. It’s when you should make a choice either to listen to your ego or the light that will soon guide you effortlessly. Halfway is when you don’t know what to choose because you’re deranged into two. But.. you know that the best choice is to keep moving forward because you don’t want to go through it again. It will be over, only forward.
ReplyDeletethank you so much for reaching out and for your words! and for pointing out, the ultimate truth which I know deep down - that I must and will keep going. Thank you <3 xxx
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