If you had asked me...

If you had asked me 5 years ago what I thought my life would look like without an eating disorder I would have told you, without hesitation, that it would be full of educational successes, accomplishments, relationships, travels, family times, paychecks, happiness, and triumphs.

If you asked me 1 year ago what I thought my life would like without an eating disorder I would have told you, with slightly more hesitation, that I wasn’t exactly sure but I would certainly hope it would involve some future education somewhere down the road, maybe a relationship along the way, and maybe a trip to Europe thrown into the mix.

If you asked me a month ago what I thought my life would look like with out an eating disorder, I would have told you, with absolutely no hesitation whatsoever, that I didn’t even see a life without an eating disorder, let alone making it to 28 years old. I didn’t see a future, dreams, goals, a plan or purpose for my life and couldn’t understand what kind of God would create me just to leave me here on earth to suffer and struggle my way through 27 long years and then die having accomplished nothing and changed no one’s lives. Defeatist? Yes. Honest? Yes. However, in the past month, I’ve remembered what it is like to have my world shrink down. I’ve remembered what it feels like to die a little day by day both physically and mentally. I’ve remembered all of the pain and the misery that accompanies an eating disorder, and in the midst of that I have also come to remember that there was a time, though short and often overlooked because it is such a blip in time compared to the years I’ve spent in the throes of this disorder, that I did have hope. It is now, in the throes of an eating disorder, feeling stuck and seeing no clear way out, that I finally can imagine what life would be like without an eating disorder for me in a realistic and attainable sense. For the first time in possibly forever, I think it might actually be possible to attain if I can just get unstuck somehow.

I imagine that it will not be easy. It will be a fight for at least a few years of choices and daily battles and back and forth bickering in my head. I imagine that I will have to live with some guilt initially when I make the right choices because they will ultimately feel wrong and foreign after so many years of them being my default coping behaviors. I imagine that I will need to reach out more and talk more and better utilize my support systems. I know there will be days that I will not like what I see in the mirror and will have to be prepared with an arsenal of defenses lined up and ready to go. Affirmations, truths, and simple “stop its” as I peer into the distorted glass. I also imagine that it will get easier in time. I see myself finally having the energy and motivation to make decisions about what I want to do with my life, without pressure from others. I will be able to think straight enough to figure out how to get whatever it is I want. If I want to go back to school, I will be nutritionally sound enough to figure out how to get student loans or scholarships and go forth and conquer. If I want to write then I will apply for essay contests. If I want to travel then I will look into internships across the country. The opportunities are out there, if I look hard enough.

I also imagine that I will be able to expand my social life, since I will no longer be living with a paralyzing fear of everything. In the process, I might be able to meet someone that I can get to know and maybe even begin a relationship with. One day, someday, maybe I can settle down with someone and start a family. I’ve always wanted to be a mother but I am going on 28 and realize that I may not be able to be a mother in the traditional sense of the word, and that is okay.

From here, I don’t really know what to imagine because that is awfully far off and I can’t foresee the future. Nor would I want to because that doesn’t leave room for surprises and fun new experiences. That is better left to tomorrow. I will stick with just getting through the first few years, and holding onto the hope that I can and will have a life that is not defined by lines and limitations, numbers and measurements, accomplishments and defeats, intakes and outputs, triumphs and setbacks. I will have a life that is free, and I will learn that even the hungry can be full again.