'Recovery'

“I don't think people realize, when they're just getting started on an eating disorder or even when they're in the grip of one, that it is not something that you just "get over." For the vast majority of eating-disordered people, it is something that will haunt you for the rest of your life. You may change your behavior, change your beliefs about yourself and your body, give up that particular way of coping in the world. You may learn, as I have, that you would rather be a human than a human's thin shell. You may get well. But you never forget.” 

Another Marya Hornbacher quote. I remember reading 'Wasted' for the first time. I couldn't put it down. I devoured it. Here was, in words, exactly how I was feeling. I wasn't alone in my thoughts. For the first time I had proof that, no matter how crazy I sounded, no matter how fucked up I felt, there were others out there who felt like me. I still go back to that book now. It makes sense of things to me.

I digress.

I'm struggling at the moment with the notion that this is going to be my life now. I think that's one of the reasons I've put off recovery for so long. I don't want to be fighting against this for the rest of my life. As tiring and as soul destroying as Bulimia is, it is so much easier to just let her be. To give in. To allow her to carry on. There's a certain safety to it, I suppose. The thought of fighting against this part of myself, every day, for the rest of my life. . . . It's beyond exhausting. I just don't know if I have it in me. If I even know where to begin.

So often I hear the words 'It's something that will be with you forever, you'll learn to deal with it. It will get easier.' - True as those words are, they are a terrible blow. I don't believe the last part.

Now that I have my girls, I have a reason to keep going. Were it not for them, I am certain that by now I would be ready to give up. I've had enough.

It's the face that lights up when I collect her from preschool. The eyes that gaze at me with love as I nurse her to sleep. The 'I really do love you, Mummy' while we're cuddling, or just because. The learning to stand, then throwing herself into my arms when she loses her balance. Without these moments, I'd be nothing at all.

Recovery to me, then - It's watching them grow up. Holding their hands along the way. Cuddling them close. Letting them discover who they are. Feeling as if I will burst with pride. Taking them to their first days at school. Teaching them. Guiding them. Encouraging them. Loving them.

Recovery is for them. For S and for E. Recovery is being their mother. Continuing to be their mother. Fighting against Bulimia rather than allowing her to cut our time short.

I'm exhausted. I'm drained. I'm in despair. But I'll carry on, find the strength from somewhere. After all, I am a mother.