Many people in my life, some family, friends, therapists, nutritionists,
school counselors, teachers and various advisers have often questioned
my past, where I've been, but few take the time to inquire about where I
am and where I'm going. I can relate my recovery to the Wizard of Oz
and their yellow brick road. I never get off the road, but I also don't
always go forward. The stops along the way, obstacles I face, are very
much related to the characters found on the journey. There are times I
feel as if I don't have a brain because I literally cannot think,
remember or form words. Others, I feel as if I don't have a heart,
emotionless and much like a tin man. And courage is probably the most
important of the three, something I lack in most situations.
It's clear that I wish to graduate from George Mason University's
undergraduate program and anyone who has ever taken the time to get to
know me knows that I aspire to attend medical school in the future. But
something someone recently asked was what recovery meant to me. This is a
concept that I never really took seriously, but I've started realizing
that at this point on the yellow brick road, it's something I should be
spending every minute of every day thinking about. I can't necessarily
put a concrete definition to the word, aside from textbook criteria.
What I can do is think of all the daily bothers and simple struggles
that have turned into what seems to be a never ending battle within
myself. For starters, I would like to wake up and get out of bed without
having to run my finger over every protruding bone in my body, counting
the ones I feel and comparing them to yesterday's observations. I would
like to shower without feeling the need to do squats while washing my
hair, get dressed in less than a half hour and put one simple layer of
make-up on instead of three complex. I wish to one day be able to eat
breakfast, lunch and dinner without thinking of each and every calorie
touching my lip and head straight to my ass, and getting through a meal
without envisioning the nearest toilet, sink or shower. I want to drink
coffee because I truly enjoy the taste and not just as the only source
of energy I can bear to intake.
To me, standing in front of a mirror and being able to look at the
person staring back at me without criticizing her every flaw and
obsessing over the imperfections, without pinching every ounce of skin
covering the bones and being able to smile means recovery. On a more
"health" recovery, I wish to one day fall asleep without listening to
the stomach acid crawling up my esophagus, burning the inside of me.
Falling asleep and staying asleep for more than just a few moments is
also a goal. I want to run because I love it, not to lose weight.
For now, I am trying to survive each day, but I am sick of being sick and don't want to simply survive, but live.
A journey of 1,003 miles begins with a single step.
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