It’s so upsetting to think back at major events in my life and relate them to my eating disorder.
Working at jobs and being too sick to show up in the morning because I was dizzy and nauseous.
Being on my honeymoon and finding some random place in the Caribbean that sold laxatives.
Standing in the parking lot of a downtown restaurant trying to get fresh air while my family was inside celebrating my grandfather’s birthday.
Being in the washroom for half an hour while I was out with friends for lunch who kept coming to check on me. I continued to lie my way out of the situation which I knew they didn’t believe.
Awful, horrible, terrible and wasteful.
Those memories should be happy ones.
One life. I get one life to live. And ED has been living it for me.
My parents came with me to a therapy session once.
I’ll never, ever forget what my dad said.
“I know she will get better. I know she will recover this time. But, my fear is that she will get better and this disease will come back again.”
As a parent myself, all I want is for my kids to be happy and most importantly healthy. I think I sometimes forget that I am someone’s daughter. I am someone’s “little girl”. They worry about me like I worry about my own kids. I couldn’t imagine having the fears about my kids that my parents have for me.
I know my recovery is all about me. It has to be for me and me only. I have to get well so Lisa can be well and live her life. When that day comes (and it will come), everyone else will reap the benefits of my health.
So, I fight every single day for myself. But in the back of my mind, I’m fighting it for everyone else too.