Time flies when you're not having fun

As much freedom as recovery brings, it's really NOT fun. 

This week marks two years since I was admitted to my EDU and 'officially' diagnosed with anorexia and it's been one hell of a whirlwind of change, calories, food, weight, therapy, bloods, scans, tears, smiles, giggles and pain. 

If I was an alcoholic who'd been dry for two years or a drug addict who'd been clean for 24 months, then I'd feel like singing it from the roof tops, but for some reason recovery from anorexia doesn't feel like that.

Strictly speaking I haven't been 'clean' for two years, my weight has been down, down, down, up, down, round and round and stayed still for a good chunk of it too. Restrictions, no big deals and walking a little further that I should have done have also happened a little too often too. 

But on the whole, two years in, I've not looked back. Yes, I have had my lapses, but they've not been relapses. I haven't run away, I haven't spent two years messing my team around. However slow it's been at times, I have kept on swimming in the right direction.

(When will I learn it'd been less tiring if I went in a straight line sometimes?)

I had already decided I was never going to live like this again when I 'came out' about my struggles with an eating disorder. I decided I wasn't going to BEHAVE like an anorexic and eventually I hoped and still hope I wont THINK like one. 

I wish I could sit here and honestly believe myself when I talk positively about recovery, how wonderful it is, how much better I feel, how I am learning to love me. But truthfully, I am still not sure. 

Of course, life is BETTER than it was back then. I am healthier. 
But it's not where I want it to be. I just don't know what it is I REALLY want or WHO I AM yet.

I've had constant reminders that whilst anorexia has controlled my life, other people's lives have moved on and this keeps me going too. Two years ago, I didn't have twin niece and nephew, some of my BEST friends have got married and are starting families. People I know have been discharged and recovered. Life goes on as I am still working on getting mine back. 

All I am certain of is I am NOT as unhappy, trapped, tortured or restricted by anorexia and her rules as I was back then. But I am still bothered, dragged down and twisted by rules and doubt. I KNOW life has grown with the gains, I know that I am a much nicer person and fuller 28-year-old than I was a 25, 26 and 27 year-old shadow of myself. I'm much more aware. 

I have coped with family fallouts, getting my own place, starting to pick up more work, new people, new places and new foods. I have not been broken by Forisips, weigh ins nor has my body given up on me. I have coped with a change of therapist. I am coping with hard-to-swallow therapy.

I just wish I was truly proud of that.

All these doubts, fat feelings and ambiguity are trademark anorexia, I know they are. I can't just admit that I've done well in 24 months of recovery, and honestly believe it. I'm not SURE I honestly FEEL better yet.

I'm just going to keep swimming. I am going to keep trying and maybe a year (or two) from now I will look back and HONESTLY mean it when I say....

...Well Done Sarah, you rock. 

(NB) I have not included ANY lowest weight images or any that people may find upsetting. Ana also 'says' I was never thin enough to shock you anyway. *bitch* huh?)