For a decent length of time now, I danced around the idea of writing about my Yoga journey. To be clear, it’s hardly an Instagram-able one. I still haven’t made it into a headstand, let alone a handstand. I still lay my mat at the back of the room and look up to see others, each time the teacher blurbs up words that sound all the same to me - something along the lines of SH-gibberish-ASANA. But today was different. Today, I found myself in crow pose, for a mere few seconds. I

Life or death decisions Precede my every meal Life or death decisions In choosing which oatmeal Sugar, oil and bread Taste better than sex Sugar, oil and bread Which to fear next? Protein, fat and carbs What ratios to use? Protein, fat and carbs Fats, I can’t abuse Food court, market, or store Where to get the rice? Food court, market, or store It’s all about the price Ice cream, fruits or cake Which desert to get? Ice cream, fruits or cake One that’s not a threat I can be pa

I hope These thoughts will someday be long gone, far away I hope They feel foreign, like my long lost hunger decay I hope To bring to my life a deeper devotion I hope It carries itself in meaningful motion I hope To no longer feel this unsettling void I hope To limit the affairs I resolve to avoid I hope Someday to find that happiness within I hope Someday to stop waiting for life to begin

No two eating disorders will ever be the same, and so, the road to recovery cannot be more individualized. There is no one size fits all, and generalizing on the steps towards freedom, or worse yet, referring to the “right” way for things to go, can be deceptive, perhaps even discouraging. But since common patterns do emerge, hearing others’ stories can extend the hopeful direction showing that after all, we are not so alone in this lonely illness. While I cannot predict the