November and December: the token months for holiday celebrations, the season of love and generosity, the time for gratitude and family and friends. This time of the year is so beautiful and full of wonder. Yet, it also has a faint tint of fear, grief, and despair for me as it brings my one-year anniversary of recovery with it.
At this time last year, I was home with my family navigating virtual classes and the decision to go to residential treatment to get help for my eating disorder. As November fades and December arrives, I am presented with reflecting on my last year in recovery and where I was a year ago today.
I was in the throws of daily trauma as I constantly woke up with anxiety lighting up my body and depression dragging down my heart. Each day was a battle to stay alive and to stay above water mentally and emotionally. Each day was a challenge as I felt tugged into two different directions in my mind, one toward relief and one toward recovery. It was hard and painful and scary every single day.
I remember yearning to be back with the people I had connected with at church. I remember grieving over the loss of all the small moments with friends. I remember feeling lost and alone and afraid.
At this time last year, I was at the lowest of valleys and didn’t know how to climb my way out.
As I entered into treatment, I didn’t realize that the following 12 months would be the hardest, scariest, most rewarding, most beautiful, and most complete months I have lived. I couldn’t see that God was working in my life every single second to restore my mind, my heart, my body, and my soul so that I could overcome the battle raging inside of my head. I didn’t realize that true human experiences of love, loneliness, joy, peace, anxiety, loss, and connection would fill my days over the next year to come. I didn’t know that I would be standing where I am today, reflecting on this time with wonder and gratitude at the core of my being.
This year, I reclaimed my life. I went from despair to triumph; I went from dismay to hope; I went from sickness and death to life. I learned that anorexia and OCD do not define who I am, nor will they be my destruction. I found that God is always with me no matter how far I stray and that I am always forgiven.
I learned why my mind feels like a ticking time bomb on some days and the most peaceful of worlds on other days. I found that meditation really is a great practice and can be done by anyone who is willing to try it. I opened my mind to trying new things that bring me fulfillment: biking, yoga, creating, writing, being in community, serving, and praising God. I practiced coping with uncomfortable emotions in a way that is healthy and productive rather than hurtful and destructive.
In the last year, I experienced what it is like to be stripped raw to my core and then be pieced together by God, support, and myself. I found my path with Christ and recovery is not so narrow. Rather, it is filled with errors and successes, adventure and protection, laughter and tears. It is a vast expanse of finding what is meant for me and what is not.
I now stand on the earth today, remembering where I was a year ago, and recognizing that I was a shell of who I am today. I see that broken girl and I embrace her for she did not know what was happening. I regard her with love and comfort as I whisper in her ear, “My dear girl, you are so strong and have no idea what is to come.” I stand here today, tall and courageous with a ferocity of spirit as I claim that I have walked through hell and come out the other side. I look back at my year and can say, “I overcome.”