S had me set up a calendar with a goal every day. Baby step goals. I told her how much difficulty I was having. She said, think of where I want to be and how I can get there.
So small changes, baby steps.
I had to write a letter to recovered Lisa. That was my goal on Saturday.
Here it is:
Dear Recovered Lisa,
Isn’t it nice to have a life?
Remember what ED did to you? He robbed you of your health, of time, of money of your physical being and most importantly of your spirit. You have always been known to be outgoing, personable, and friendly and he tried to take that away from you. He did succeed in some capacity, but you never let him take it away completely. He was strong, but he wasn’t going to completely beat you down. You always had a little fight left.
20 years. 20 fucking years.
10 years of learning and developing this disease. You became very good at it and perfected it. Until you decided that kids were more important and stopped cold turkey.
10 years you didn’t touch a laxative. 10 years you lived.
Than ED came back. Strong and mighty. You didn’t need time to learn anything because it was like an old friend that came back into your life. You got sick quickly. You lost weight incredibly fast and people noticed right away. There was no denying the fact that ED had shown up to take over your life once again.
You fought, you struggled, you lied, you deceived everyone around you. But you were only fooling yourself. Until you decided it was enough. No more.
I’m almost 42 and when I die – I know what people will say about me. I was loyal, loving, ambitious, determined, enthusiastic, faithful, committed, generous, considerate, earnest, warm and compassionate. They won’t say that I was skinny. Who the fuck cares? So it was time to take the important things in your life and make them important again. Work on what really matters.
And you did. You worked, you fought, you cried (a lot!!!) and now you are someone that helps other people who are struggling with the worse demon possible. Their own self.
Lisa, you did waste a lot of time to this disease. And I never want to say everything has a purpose – because I can’t imagine what the purpose of me torturing my body and my mind for so many years could’ve been. But, ED was a part of who I was for many years. In the end, I won. Not ED. And I know that because I am still alive.