Choosing to pursue recovery was the hardest decision I ever made. Consciously accepting that anorexia had taken over my life and corrupted every thought, word, belief, and value I identified with was terrifying. Telling my parents that I wanted to go to a residential treatment center was a pivotal moment in my life. Going through assessments, doctor appointments, packing lists, travel itineraries, and departure routines were all moments of shock and fear.

But I wouldn’t change any of it.

Through my process, I had distinct words spoken over me that I now hold as pillars for my life. These phrases are little tokens that remind me of my humanity and the glory that comes from recovery. They have shaped my mind to know what recovery and healing are necessary for life. They are powerful and distinct, and I wish to share them with you.

“Just be”

In treatment, I was told to “just be” every day. When I was caught in a cycle of obsessive worrying,  fearing relapse, combating disordered thoughts, or questioning whether I would truly heal, I had voices commanding me to just be. They prompted me to let my mind relax and let go of the fussing and obsessing. They encouraged me to let God take over and trust the recovery process.

Being told to live and be present was infuriating because I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to embrace my humanness or let idle tie be just that. I was lost on how to let my thoughts wander, to let creativity thrive, and to be present in the moment. All I knew was constant worrying or planning, coming up with solutions to arbitrary problems.

Now, I can recognize that the key to living is to “just be.” It is the idea that we cannot be productive, working, solving, soliciting, or ideating at all times of the day. I wish for you to receive these words and know that you can “just be” in your life as well.

We do not need to earn our worth or our value on this planet. We are inherently loved and worthy of our feet being on this earth. As humans, we have hearts, souls, and minds that are to be cared for and celebrated regardless of what our society deems to be worthwhile. I encourage you to let yourself “just be” in this life, even just for a day, and know that it is a beautiful thing when you embrace this peace. You begin to notice how the clouds move, the beauty of someone’s laughter, and the natural joy of everyday living.

“Hope and Humor are the first to return.”

It is a wonderful thing when you laugh for the first time after months of apathy and depression. The uncharacteristic bubble of giggling and the pull at your mouth when you begin to smile seem so foreign but are so enticing. The lightness in your heart as you begin to experience a moment of real happiness is unmatched.

It is a wonderful thing when you wake up in the morning and the first thing you think is the hope of a new day. Your mind is optimistic about the possibilities of what is to come and what you can create for yourself. There is freedom and a childlike wonder when your feet hit the ground and you are excited to be alive.

When I first felt these things in treatment, I felt like a brand new person. I felt like chains had been removed from my body and I could finally open my eyes to see the light around me. It was so beautiful when I truly laughed again that I soon began to cry. There are simply not enough ways to explain the feeling of awe and enlightenment when hope and humor come back into your life.

“Hope and humor are the first to return.” I was told this by a therapist when I expressed that these very things had shown themselves in my life again. It was a milestone in my recovery process to know that I had the energy to laugh and the mind to see the greatness of a new day.  

I tell you this now if you are fearing stepping toward recovery. Hope and humor are the first things that come back into your life as you begin to see that this world is full of goodness. You are capable of having these things when you open your hands and allow the healing process to take place. Let these have space in your spirit again, knowing that this is only the beginning of a truly joyful life.

It is worth it to stay alive.

There is a certain level of apathy, depression, and disregard for life that one reaches when suffering from an eating disorder or mental illness. It is terrifying to think that the mind is capable of destroying itself with addiction and internal beliefs, but it is a reality of mental illness.

I often felt that the life I was living was too hard. It wasn’t worth it to keep fighting because I was so exhausted from being caught in a battle with myself. I had had enough and wanted out. But I knew I didn’t want to die. I wanted relief and a free life. But I was afraid of the chasm between where I was standing and where I wanted to be. I thought it would be impossible to take that leap.

Now, I look back at where I have been and see that I am on the other side of that deep trench. I can look back at my experiences, my pain, and my triumphs and confidently say, “I did that.”

Even more, I can look at my life now and say, “It is worth it to stay alive.” It is worth the frustration, the loss, the trust, and the overall process of recovery to feel content with life now. It is worth every single tear and struggle because now I can live in freedom. I can climb mountains, create intentional connections, work at a job I love, go to school again, have game nights with friends, share my testimony, worship in church, cook dinner, and go out to the movies. I can laugh again, cry again, have long conversations, and set strong boundaries. I can live a full life now and be able to tell you that life is so much sweeter because I went to treatment and chose LIFE.

I cannot say this enough, it is worth it to stay alive. There is so much light inside of you just waiting to be shown and it deserves to be let out. Know that life always gets better from where you are. You are on an uphill climb, but the view from the top is glorious and beautiful. You will be able to look back one day and proclaim all of the goodness in life.

Recovery is worth it.

When I returned from 3 months of intense treatment in Arizona, I was often asked how I was feeling. There were no expectations behind these questions, only the desire to know that I was better than when I had left. And it was the most joyous feeling when I got to truthfully tell people I was happy. The most elating conversation I had were the ones where I could authentically express how much better I was feeling after being restored to a healthy body, mind, and spirit. It is still one of the greatest joys in my life to be able to tell people, “I made it, and I am so happy I did.”