I spent a couple of hours delaying to write. Hungry for words, the words found me. I spent a couple of days beating around the bush. Failing to deliver a hint, the hint found me. I spent a couple of weeks trying to understand. Waiting for answers, answers found me. I spent a couple of months trying to get better. Seeking recovery, recovery found me. I spent a couple of years missing my old self. Striving to get back my life, my life found me. I spent a lifetime thinking of my

Lately, I come to the realization that majority of my posts set quite the optimistic tone to recovery and eating disorders. I find that in my writing, much like during my recovery experience, I often focus on the positive. This is due to my journey including a mindful practice of choosing what I draw my focus to as well as of distinguishing the thoughts I feed from ones I’m better off letting go. It likely explains why I merely use my platform to spread messages of hope and b

Broken vase once full of flowers, My life was shattered, pieces apart. The missing fractions I am seeking, But what if they can be replaced…? Instead of gluing up the vase, I use clay and make one from scratch. Instead of analyzing how I got here, I focus on the destination I want to get at. Dammed river once flowing freely, My living was obstructed, barriers around. The solid blocks I try to demolish, But what if there is a less walked path…? Instead of tearing down the barr

“It’s never really about the food”, he said. Thinking to myself, it so is about the food – as I cannot bring myself to eat - I was confused as to how on earth I ended up sitting in a psychiatrist’s office. And yet, by some force of the universe, I had a feeling he was going to help me. Fast forward a couple of years later and I confirm: “It’s not really about the food”. It’s Monday morning and this upcoming Sunday, December 2nd, I will be hosting a dinner party in memory of t