Recovery is a dream. A distant, foreign concept. A world of freedom I desperately want to live in, but struggle to believe will ever exist – for me. The idea of being free from food obsession is just utterly foreign – do I even deserve it? I’ve stumbled into a room full of happy people, all having the best of times, but they’re speaking a foreign language and I can’t for the life of me fathom why they’re so joyous – I’m out of my depth. I can see the glee, I just can’t comprehend it. I can’t join in the frivolities – it’s not my party. I’m not part of this world. But I can learn a new language – I can give it a red hot try at any rate.
I hope to wake one morning and see a rainbow – spanning every inch of the colour spectrum from royal red to vibrant violet. And I will know deep in my heart that while my skies are grey overhead, blue skies are just around the corner – so close I can touch them.
I am putting in some really hard yards right now – with different therapies and research and support. I have so many tools, and so much knowledge at my fingertips, it is time to start applying all I have learned. And slowly, ever so slowly, I will replace my current habits and thought processes with new ways of dealing with the world.
Hard yards don’t mean success – not yet at any rate. Hard yards mean sweat and exhaustion and pain. Hard yards mean doubt and fear – Is it worth it? Can I get there? Should I bother? Hard yards mean increased anxiety, worsening depression, confusion and abject fear. But I’ve climbed a mountain before – a real one, not a metaphorical one – and I got to the top. And it hurt like hell along the way, but the pay-off was sweet and nobody can ever take that success away from me. Ever. So yes – I can do the hard yards. They are unfamiliar, uncomfortable and unpleasant, but while my current way of living might be incredibly familiar, it is neither comfortable nor pleasant. So truly, I have very little to lose.
To find recovery – to find freedom – I have to believe it is possible. I need to don my ruby slippers and trust that just like Dorothy, I too have the power to return home to Kansas. I’ve traveled a long and winding road, collected truly beautiful friends and amazing memories, been supported, helped and learned a lot. Now, I must trust in the power of those who have cared for me when I couldn’t care for myself, who believe in me, then tap my heels together and think to myself, “Recovery is my home. Recovery is my home. Recovery is my home.”
There is a world of recovery out there for me – I am starting to really believe that. This is new to me – I have never believed it before, but it will become my new way of being. It will become my new home. We do live in a wonderful, wonderful world and bit by bit I will join those bluebirds flying over the rainbow, and I will dare to dream that recovery is possible. Yes – even for me. I am not beyond redemption – none of us truly are. There is a miracle out there, just waiting for me to have the courage to stare fear in the face, and to learn a new way of living. My recovery dreams will turn into a reality. This I finally believe.