People often talk about a 'lightbulb moment' in recovery, and for 7 years I have waited and waited for this lightbulb moment to come for me. It never came. I attempted recovery maybe twice throughout my illness and didn't ever get anywhere. It was like I reached a certain point and it was like I just didn't have it in me to continue, but now as I look back I realise that I wasn't fully commited to it, I was fooling myself thinking I could get better on anorexia's terms.
"I'll do it but only eat healthy,and as soon as I get to a healthy weight I'll join the gym so I can lose the weight again"
Where as in reality I cant get better on her terms, because that's not truly getting better. Before now I never completely wanted recovery if I'm honest, there was always a part of me hanging on to my illness regardless of what I was telling myself and everyone around me. I wasn't ready to let go. I hadn't seen my anorexia for the evil it really is. I was still clinging on to the hope of perfection, for ultimate satisfaction. I'd given up on the thought of ever recovering, and so I sat back and let anorexia destroy me once more. For the last time.
Something within me clicked, I'm not sure whether it was a 'lightbulb' moment or not, but something clicked. It was when I overdosed about a month ago and ended up in hospital having damaged my stomach and being told that was the closest I'd ever been to actually succeeding in killing myself that I realised, it was almost like a voice, something outwith my control, saying to me 'I don't want to die' I was confused, bewildered in fact, why would I realise that I didn't want to die now? Why had it taken something so serious to shake me? I thought I'd wanted to die.
Spending a few weeks on bed rest proved to be the kick up the backside I needed. I can truly honestly say now that after 7 years of this hell, I am 100% commited to recovery. Now I look at my illness and all I see is hatred, and anger - it's done nothing but cause me pain and stolen away most of my teenage years - why the hell should I continue to let it ruin MY life? I should be out there with my friends having fun, experimenting, enjoying life, but instead I was cooped up in bed too weak to leave the house. And it's now been over 2 weeks I've been following my meal plan, which may not seem like much to some people, but this is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, I cant even explain how hard I am finding this, every day is such a battle - but for the first time ever, I'm actually fighting it. No one else can do it for me, I know now that it has to come from ME, I have to fight this and I will.
I want to recover for good, hear that ana? I'm going to kick the shit out of you.