If this picture really shows a true representation of what recovery feels like because I wouldn’t know then I can positively say that I’m in chapter 1. This picture though it resonates with me it actually makes me furious in a way the whole idea of walking in another street is hilarious like that is so easy to just up and leave. I am trying to but I’m stuck in the same spot I was years ago the only difference is that then I actually didn’t want to move and leave it all behind because my EDs did actually give me what I was looking for I was satisfied… but just slightly… momentarily actually
I have one foot forward and the other is still stuck in the grit, motionless… I haven’t even fallen into the hole yet, I have a long way to.
Choose happiness… happiness for me is looking so fragile, so small, so tiny, that hollowed out look, saggy jeans, sharp protruding hip bones that make me grin when I’m taking a shower looking into the mirror, twig like legs, the visible spine on my back once covered by flesh that disappeared, the glorious collar bones and counting my ribs when I lightly breathe in….. but I have to give that up so that I live and find happiness in another way… but it’s not like it’s guaranteed, I could end up fat and miserable in search of this recovery.
I don’t know.