Dropping the bells and whistles and speaking the recovery truth

December 12, 2018

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 belief. Occasionally, I write about the not so illuminating glimpses, the not so happy endings. This is one such instance.

 

Nothing gets you reflecting back on your journey like stepping into the last month of the year. With 2019 just around the corner, I’m weighing out where I’m at, against where I wanted to be, and boy oh boy, am I disillusioned. 

 

  • In 2018 I went from a six-figure-paying job to unemployment, as I continue to lack a defined idea of what I desire, or the courage to own up to those things that I do.

 

  • In 2018 I exponentially cultivated my desire to help others in recovery, but I haven’t really succeeded to secure a support or coaching role in an eating disorder recovery specialized setting.

 

  • In 2018 I dedicated love and effort to a platform that helps, inspires, and allows us warriors to connect, but only sporadically do I get a new subscriber or someone who checks in.

 

  • In 2018 I reached my most healthy and free relationship with food, but I sometimes still need to exert a conscious push to feed myself.

 

  • In 2018 I continued to perfect listening to my thoughts and honoring my feelings, but this year sure did not bring about my rebirth as champion in the sport.

 

Despite my tremendous gratefulness for beating anorexia and the continued effort I carry in spreading the message that full recovery is possible, I don’t think it has to be the transformative story we often read about. I did not come eye to eye with my life’s purpose, nor do I think that in overcoming anorexia I’m now ready take on the world. But I did find that happiness I had lost to my illness.

 

The happiness I speak of is different from the one I experienced during recovery. It’s not the shivers of joy sparked by getting in deeper touch with the Soul. Nor is it the shivers of pleasure found in the enlightening nature walks.

 

In fact, in the happiness I speak of, there are no shivers at all. It’s the happiness of recouping a mundane existence - one with ups and downs, where passiveness and excitement can be equally valued and where factual truths or emotional impressions are not so consciously questioned.

 

In this state of happiness, I don’t express my awe to what I have achieved this year, nor do I reassure myself that “it is good enough”. In this state of happiness, I don’t say, “bring on 2019!” for I feel an over optimism and eagerness to take on all challenges that come my way. But picking up the bells and whistles, I nonetheless do say it. It’s cheerful and keeps the ball rolling, making for a sustainable attitude to recovered life. 

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