When the Clock Strikes Mindnight

This is not folklore...though at times I wish it was. This whole "recovering from an eating disorder" thing is blisteringly real. In my last post, I spoke about when and for how long the eating disorder occurred and how miserable it was, but I almost wish I could remember that level of misery so that things didn't feel so awful right now. It's as if my mind has forgotten how much worse it could be. And it was.

Maybe it feels different because I'm not numb to my feelings in the way I used to be. This past week I've felt unclear, which leads to my confusion as to whether any of this even makes sense—I'm writing this in an airport that I've occupied for 5 hours, so that might be a contributing factor. All I know is that I'm IN it right now...deep. It's like I've been (and still am) following that yellow brick road to meet this infamous Oz character who seems millions of miles away, no matter how long I've been walking where this tin man tells me to go.

Please don't take this as me expressing the desire to give up and wave the white flag— it's quite the opposite. I worked my butt off in treatment, leaving behind that miserable shell I inhabited for so long. To say it looks unappealing to return to that would be an understatement.

With that being said, maybe the clock has struck midnight and my glamorous ride to the ball is just a fucking pumpkin. Essentially what I'm getting at is that the pink cloud of early recovery is eventually going to burst, but that's ok! I'll be ok, you'll be ok, and our recovery will carry on—Maybe just not in a horse drawn carriage.

photo cred: http://www.allposters.com/-sp/Pumpkin-Carriage-Posters_i10358918_.htm