There's a pretty admirable person in my life that's asked a question of me lately that has required some deep thinking. "What does it take to heal?" We all have wounds and we've all found ways to survive and maybe even thrive, but healing is something that we don't always make time for. When you spend a year of your life in recovery and a large part of that year actually living in a medical center, dedicated time for healing seems pretty natural. However, when your life has become so neglectful, down to your basic needs not being met, the idea of becoming "healed" can often seem unfathomable. So I've realized that for me healing is a long term goal. Right now, the question I have to answer each day is "how can I nurture myself?" Because that is where I'm currently situated on this path to healing. The answer to that question could be anything from a concrete step like "I need to have a meal and then rest my body" to something more vague such as "I need to set more boundaries around how I spend my free time."
There were a lot of steps between pain and "how can I nurture myself?" For example, "what can I do, in this moment, to feel safe?" was one of the first steps. And then came "what is the next right decision?" Once I mastered how to take life minute by minute came more difficult tasks, like taking life hour by hour. It seems overwhelming to think that coping would be broken down this tediously, but humans have always had to crawl before they walked and for whatever reason we ignore that logic to take adulthood on very quickly.
The beautiful thing about life is that no two people experience it the same way. Which means that while we all have similar stories and stimulus, we can empathize with one another and hold each other's hands when we don't, we'll still never truly understand another human. This is actually a beautiful thing because it means that none of us should ever feel like we can't choose an unbeaten path or follow a criticized direction unapologetically because the billions of moments that are woven together to create the history of you are unlike anyone else's and the future doesn't have to be either.
So back to our question. What does it take to heal? I'm not there yet and that's okay. Maybe some of you are. If you aren't, find what stage you're in. Maybe go back to square one and learn how to live again.
It's been 365 days of learning what it takes to recover and what I've learned is that recovery takes an undeniable willingness to trust. Trust your team. Trust your fellow warriors. Trust that life without an eating disorder is possible. Trust the process. Recovery isn't just about eating six times a day or staying off the treadmill or handing over your laxatives. Recovery is tears. Lots of them. Recovery is night sweats and belly aches and missing your family from the other side of the country and pouting and throwing ice at a wall instead of purging and messing up and starting over. Recovery is also sunshine and Disney trips and kayaks and ice cream for the first time since who knows when and friendships and reunions and hiking and rock climbing and thank god I'm not freezing and love and puppy snuggles and the best is yet to come.
Recovering from an eating disorder is by far the most difficult thing I have ever done, but I hold on to the hope that the best is, in fact, yet to come.
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