It's hard to say how this issue started for me. It didn't happen all at once. Few things do. There are multiple factors that sparked this illness: anxiety, desire for control, hurtful words, societal standards. I could go on. Over the years, ED became a coping mechanism for me. It was a way for me to set myself a part from others, to feel that I was good at something. What I didn't realize was that setting myself apart was really just pure isolation. As the months, and eventually years passed, I felt more and more alone. I became a cast away on an island, watching my ship sink due to the holes I'd created myself.
It's at this point that I'm supposed to give the "downward spiral" analogy, but honestly, I don't see it that way. I don't view this situation, or life in general, in ups and downs. I see it more as ebbing and flowing. A wave. Sometimes the water is still and gentle. Other times it's rocky and harsh. Sometimes we see a wave coming and can prepare for impact, other times it knocks us back before we even know it's there. And then you swallow a gallon of sea water and think the stray piece of seaweed wrapping around your neck is some giant eel monster preparing to drag you to her lair and sacrifice you to the Giant Eel Monster Supreme and you just wish in your final moments of life you could at least get the sand out of your swimsuit. (Side note: I work at an aquarium, yet the best thing I could come up with was "giant eel monster." Fine. Anguilliformes. There. Another side note: Making this specific giant eel monster a female was an artistic choice that in no way represents my opinions, positive or negative, toward male or female giant eel monsters.)
Sorry. (Side note: Not really).
I've noticed that recovery isn't a linear path. There may not be a definite beginning and end. In fact, there probably won't be. Healing is a constant state. We need to remember that we never know what the next day holds. Some tomorrows will be rough, others will be peaceful days at sea. The important thing is to do everything in our power to insure that tomorrow will come. And to embrace everything we can of today. We always hear about the "calm before the storm," but be reminded that after each storm, there will be calm again.
(One more Side note: Have you ever noticed that eels always have that look on their faces like they're the dorky kid in middle school that just got invited to their first cool kid party? No? Alright then.)
Be well, friends.

I love your analogies, especially the tide one. As someone who also has manageable but not curable problems, it can be so tempting to look at "high" moments as closer to normal, or reaching some kind of goal. But I'm never going to be "normal" and holding myself to someone else as a standard is setting myself up for failure. Maybe my journey is more of a tilt a whirl than a roller coaster. That's kind of ironic for someone with bipolar to say, but I'm the only one who has to cope with my illnesses and I get to pick my own normal.
ReplyDeleteAll that to say you seem really in touch with your own healing journey and I hella admire that.
Hey Rebecca, that means a lot to me, thank you. I like the image of a tilt a whirl, very relatable. And you're right- we can't compare ourselves to other people, especially since we most likely have no idea what they're actually going through themselves. <3 Hope you've been well.
DeleteI can feel the therapeutic...energy (?) from this post. I also see your humor and love the side thoughts 😂❤ you're shining a light on the darkness and I'm so happy for you
ReplyDeleteSome days are better than others. I have learned, or am still learning, that today is what I make of it. The power in choice can be overwhelming. Saying that to say, really, some days it doesn't feel like I have much choice in what the day will be like and others I feel stronger and can make that decision. In my program of recovery we say "progress not perfection" because I can only do what I can do and some days, doing nothing is enough. I love you sweet Leah.
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