Recovery Diary 04/07/19

Do you ever miss it? The release that it offered you? The sweet bliss of nothing at all? The emptiness? The shrinking? The isolation? The secrets?

I miss it sometimes. When I am alone I hear the disease whispering to me from the crevices of my mind. The eating disorder lived up there for so long it was hard to try and board up every single entry way, impossible actually. It’s shadows and ghosts are reminders of what I used to be.

I miss it sometimes. I miss being sick, being small, being able to escape the responsibilities that come with adulthood through the secrecy of starvation. Emptiness sounds alluring when my anxieties and thoughts are more than I believe I can handle.

But I only miss it. That’s all. I look back at the disease with it alluring eyes and attractive whispers and turn away. I go to sleep and wake up the next day and the next day and the next, each making the decision to let the past rest.

The missing becomes less powerful over time. I never believed it would when I first walked into recovery. The grief was unbearable. It left me doubled over on the floor, clutching at the new flesh on my stomach, pinching my skin in hatred, and sobbing over the loss of the tool that allowed me to shrink. I had to become someone. I had to make the choice between becoming and dying. I chose to live, but in order for that to happen a part of me died in the process. Choosing life equaled the painful process of undoing, which looked like lying doubled over on the floor sobbing over the cellulite clinging to my bones.

I killed the part I miss. I killed the demons, let them to starve away in agony as I laid on the floor and cried about their death, but the ghosts of my past self still whisper to me, reminding me of what I did to them. Reminding me how I let them go.

I miss the eating disorder so much sometimes I have to lock myself in my room and hold my head between my hands and clutch my eyes shut and silently scream and tense up my body and wait in that position until I can catch a breath. Then I open the door, walk out, and leave the missing where it is supposed to be; behind.