Living Again and for the First Time

I forgot about my blog. I often forget about my tracking app telling me how long it’s been since I’ve purged. Recovery is a hard thing to measure at this point, as in, I feel like I am in that long difficult stretch between  having an eating disorder and being fully recovered. In this stretch, I am stable, my life doesn't revolve around my ED, but the voice is still not fully gone. I have thoughts on the daily, even though I don't act on them and haven't for two years now. True urges occur about once every two weeks, but after years of sitting through them, I feel confident that they are just moments, and they don't scare me much anymore. 

I am graduating in May. The May that is weeks away from now. It makes throat tighten up a little bit every time I think about it. I am in such disbelief that I am actually going to make it through and graduate college. Every semester it has seemed as if there was going to be an insurmountable hurdle that would crush my will to finish this degree. Whether it was Orgo I, Orgo II, or my eating disorder, I really fell victim to all the negative beliefs I have about being incapable when it seemed like, over and over, I was presented with evidence to prove I was. But here I am, nonetheless. Finishing. People who knew me only  growing up probably wouldn't understand the gravity of this. In those times, I always got things done in the end, even if I procrastinated, and I often exceeded expectations and was confident in my ability to do so. My mental health has been a hurdle that has changed the capacity I have to endure discomfort since then. I simply feel less able to do the things I used to be able to do. I lost stamina, lost a sense of purpose, lost the will to push through even when I could see a mile marker ahead. It's not solely the state of my mental health that put me in this place, enter: The State of The World. 

I used to feel like the light at the end of the tunnel was the end of the race. There would finally be time when I would be able to breathe without stressing about every deadline or exam or expense, but I have come to the unfortunate realization that unless there is a divine intervention (which is a joke at this point), this world is not fair. The standard 3 bedroom-2 bathroom house my parents raised me in is not one I could ever or likely will ever afford. Doom and gloom, this and that. The light at the end of the tunnel is not the finish line. It's just a mile marker for a race I cannot complete. 

Yet another race I cannot win, but was tricked into the narrative that it was mine for the taking. I could have been the skinniest, most cared for person ever known to man kind. I could finally fucking make the world that I live in work for me instead of being a slave to capitalism and being the epitome of burnout. These are unachievable tasks. 

Nothing matters, and that used to send me into a spiral. Now, nothing matters- yay. I will love harder and give less fucks and be proud that I have done what I have to make this life the most joyful and free as it can be.

~

That being said. I believe it feels like the right time to put this blog to rest. I was such a different fucking person when I started it. I am so grateful for all she did for me. She worked her ass off to allow me to be who I am and feel the things I feel today. It will be five years since I first entered treatment in May. Five years. That makes my head spin. I am not near the end of this path to being fully recovered, but I have finally put some distance between the rollercoaster and whiplash it gave me for so long. I feel safe on this road and don't feel very tempted to sway from it. 

I have a loving, supportive and devoted partner, Lauren. I am graduating college and prepared to start off my career in education and see where things go from there. I could not have told you with confidence I would ever be able to achieve what I have. I am proud of myself every single day, even on days I am angry or frustrated with myself, I am always proud, too. 

Glo