I am pacing back and force in our apartment, phone in had, waiting for the doctor to pick up. When he finally does, I beg, plead, cry wanting to have one more day at home, one more day of pretending I didn’t have to make a change.
One more day of living with my anorexia, who had been my best friend and closes companion for such a very long time. Couldn’t the doctor understand that? Couldn’t he see that I was not ready?
“We count reschedule now that we’ve made all the arrangements. Either you’re joining the program today or not at all.”
I cannot breathe. Where’s my husband? Why had we fought last night? Why wasn’t he here to walk this way with me? I pack my bag, throw some random cloths in there, tears streaming down my face. I feel sick.
I don’t want to go, but I know I have to. I know I don’t have an option. There’s no alternative. Oh, wait. There is: Death.
The day goes by in a haze. I try not to cry in front of the doctors. I try to be strong, smile, sound exited. But I am terrified. I don’t want to meet the other patients. I don’t want to leave my room.I certainly don’t want to eat. I don’t have the energy to fight. All I really want to do is disappear. I want this struggle to be over.
I make it through the day and fall asleep curled up in a tiny ball of misery not sure what the future holds, whether I’ll make it or whether I’ll break apart.
366 Days of Transformation
That was exactly one year ago. 366 days (it’s a leap year). 527040 minutes of ups and downs, victories and failures, tears and laughter, weight loss and weight gain, loss of identity and the regaining for it, sickness and health, existing and living and finally coming home to me, myself and I.
I have said it many times, but I will say it again: The person I was one year ago does not exist anymore. The insecure, weary of life, hardly sane, scared and hurt little girl has transformed into a self-confident, energetic, joyful and active young woman that is ready to face every challenge life puts in her way.
When I look back and remember the lost girl I was on March 23rd 2011, I want to reach out to her, take her in my arms, squeeze her tight and tell her that it will be OK. I would tell her that she won’t lose herself. Anorexia will.
I would tell her that there are many yet undiscovered or covered abilities, talents and passions inside that are just waiting for anorexia to disappear in order to burst out and blossom.
I would tell her that eating can be fun and that it will get easier every single day if you just keep at it. I’d whisper in her ear that nobody will judge her because she gains weight and lives inside her natural body.
I’d reinforcer her by promising that letting go of this part of her life will present amazing opportunities and a future she could have never dreamt of. I’d dream with her of all the journeys she is going to take: from America, to Australia, to Bali and the South of France.
I’d be proud of her because she was going to become a very active eating disorder advocate and she was going to help hundreds of sufferers around the world.
I’d praise her for building up the courage for starting a podcast in the hopes of reaching the soul of another girl or boy who’s in a desperate situation right now.
I’d take her by my hand and show her that workouts can be fun and that it’s not about the calories burnt, but about the movement, the connection with the body and the reduction of stress.
I’d create the picture inside her mind that despite her feeling like her life was going to end, it was only now starting. And I’d be cheering her on every single day, whenever she was struggling in the hopes of giving her an extra ounce of motivation and energy to keep going and never give up.
Yes, that’s what I’d do. But I would also lie in bed next to her, stroking her hair and telling her that it is alright to cry, to let it all out, to be scared, petrified even and to feel completely overwhelmed.
Emotions are good, necessary even, when trying to recover. I wish I had known that earlier. However, I would have also told her to stop complaining so much and sometimes just pushing through, even if it seems impossible to do.
No Chance without Your Support
As I am writing this, I am on the brink of crying because of all the positive changes my life and my soul have been through in those 366 days.
There are no words to describe the outpouring love and support I have received over those difficult first months and beyond. I am not going to lie, I would not have been able to do it without the knowledge that I am not fighting alone, that I can always turn to you (and you know who you are). Thank you from the bottom of my heart. I mean it. I couldn’t have done it without you.
My Gifts For You
I am proud of where I am today. I have come so far and I want to help you achieve the same. So, in order to celebrate this important day, for me at least, and to give back to you, I will once again give you The Ultimate Guide to a Healthy Body Image for free.
Get your hands on one of the copies today by entering the code LIFE before you check out. This promotion will end next Friday! Yes, you have an entire week to tell everybody you know that’s struggling to get this life-changing guide. Exciting, isn’t it?
I will also host 4 Webinars in the next 4 weeks in order to strengthen your recovery. We will be talking about how to find out if you’re suffering from an eating disorder, which options for recovery there are, how to determine which ones could be a fit for you, where you can find support, which roadblocks could come up and how you can destroy them, how to get going in difficult days and I will give you empowering tips to push through your recovery.
We will also tap into developing a healthy body image and a strong connection between your body, mind and soul.
The Webinars will be completely free and will start in the first week of April. If you’re interested, please opt-in on the Newsletter in the Sidebar!
My message on this glorious day for you is: Recovery is Possible. It can happen. It is not easy, but it is the most rewarding thing you will ever do. I have been at the place where you are. I have thought I couldn’t do it, couldn’t move on, but I did. One. Step. At. A. Time.