I Am Not Anorexia.
I am not my illness.
I am recovering from anorexia.
But that is not who I am.
I’m just a regular 26-year old girl who has fought to the bone to regain my ability & desire to EAT, breathe, live & love.
This is something I’ve been fighting for, day in & day out for the past 6 months & it’s something I will continue to do.
These are things anorexia took away from me.
She turned me into a cold-hearted B who was ready to do anything in the world to starve myself until there was nothing left to starve.
I won’t lie, the past few days have been a few of the hardest since I embarked on this rocky AF adventure of recovery.
But I’m a warrior.
Each & every day has made me stronger.
It has made me realize that life without anorexia means I have a bright & beautiful future.
It means I’m the old Kelly.
It means I have a heartbeat.
It means I’m alive.
Trust me when I say that when faced with such a tumultuous, dark & devastating present, a changed ME that I was unable to recognize, a lower than normal heart rate & a look at death right in the eyes, all of these things are that much more valuable.
So, when I tell you I am not my illness, I mean it.
I mean it because I’ve fought too hard to let myself be defined by something that robbed me of absolutely everything that I loved.
Something that sucked my heart, my soul, my compassion & my entire life out of me.
That seduced me, tempted me & made me hate myself.
That destroyed my self-love & self-confidence.
That made me worship her until I ALMOST caved.
But here I am today, ranting away about how I am not ANOREXIA & how I didn’t cave.
For the past 6 months, I’ve been climbing a really high mountain.
Sometimes, I can see the tip.
Sometimes, it seems out of reach.
I’ve taken (mostly) steps up, but the past few days have seemed like almost-steps-back.
That’s when the mind work kicks in.
That’s when I fight CONSTANTLY to remind myself that the views are always better up there & then somehow, I begin to see the light.
The sun rises.
The tip starts to come into my field of vision.
Then, I see the light.
It’s no longer out of reach.
I’m almost there.
The tip is so close, I can ALMOST taste it.