They said that the beginning would be the hardest part.
But why didn’t they warn me about halfway? The halfway slope, which rises to an almost vertical climb: steepening and steepening, rising before me like a grim and inaccessible tower. And in the exposed space in my head, the comments wheel and shriek like vultures circling their prey.They bide their time, awaiting the opportune moment, before closing in with talons outstretched, cruel beaks poised to slice flesh and draw blood.
You look healthy now.
Your body looks better than it has done in years.
She has finally recovered from her eating disorder.
She doesn’t have anorexia anymore.
And if I could, I would raise my arms and protect myself; but how can I possibly fight something which I know is inevitably, inexplicably, part of this recovery journey in itself? People will look and people will judge; it’s part of life; and I would be a fool if I were to go through life expecting people to keep their thoughts to themselves. If you go into the desert, you expect to find vultures. If you make it as far as the land of half recovered, than you have to expect to encounter such comments. That’s part of the harsh reality. The harsh reality, of being a supposedly “recovered” anorexic in a harsh, diet-obsessed, thin-loving world.
Its been so long since I last wrote in my blog. But the last time I went to write I found that the words would not come. What to say? What to describe? How to possibly express the feelings and emotions running rampant like racing stormclouds in my head?
They said the beginning was the hardest part. And in this case, perhaps, it was.
But just like the beginning of my first initial recovery journey, four years ago, now, when I realised I had to make some sort of start.
A beginning I will make here, too, on this small and little known blog.
And now is the time to return to my journey, and begin where I left off. The beginning of the hardest part of the journey. The beginning of what is recovery after the halfway mark.
