But the pain of it is lessened by the fact that today marks two years without my eating disorder. Full complete years with no purging, no starvation, no exercise until I felt like fainting.
I'll be honest: I was scared I wouldn't make it till this point. Not that slipping up is the end of the world, or even the end of my recovery, but it is lovely to be able to reflect on such a sustained streak of recovery (and it makes me feel like a BOSS). Transitioning into the real world was full of huge gaping holes for me to fall into: not having a pack of intense women making sure I damn well made it to dinner, not having free counseling in the happiest feministy place on earth, being so busy that some nights I just fall onto my bed naked after my shower and hold my head to stop my brain from zooming around so much. The dating scene (ugh. Posts to come up on that ish). The 12 interviews I went on before I landed my amazing job. The paying rent and loans business. Plenty of real legitimate stress factors. But they didn't paralyze me like I thought they might. I kept on trucking on.
And I feel pretty damn proud.
Much love,
The Sheriff
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