Life goes on, and so does exploring recovery.

Isn't it funny how life just goes on, how arriving in a new place, doesn't make the old one disappear? However much we try to stop the world moving sometimes and scream "let me get off!", it just keeps ticking over. That's, as they say. life. 

When I was at my most ill, life stopped. Halted. That 'anorexic mixtape' stuck on loop, over and over and over again, with no respite, the same thing over and over. Treading water, every day, terrified to swim either way.

But one thing that's helping me move from being in treatment, to living life away from life at the eating disorders clinic, is just trying really hard to not call myself recovered, or in recovery, or an 'anorexia survivor'. Just trying to move on with life, explore my new skills now I've finished the swim.

I'm learning to accept recovery is never probably going to have the end point and golden beaches I once dreamt of reaching. The place where it all made sense and life was, well, dare I say perfect, sorted and fixed. It was a mirage I thought I saw in the confusion of anorexia and during the four year swim I've just made to get here.  

This came up in an interview I did with a magazine this afternoon. I was asked to describe where I am at now with anorexia. Am I still in recovery, or have I recovered? It's the first time I've spoken to someone new about my experience since discharge, and I didn't know what to say. In some ways, I HAVE recovered from anorexia, I've recovered my BMI, I've recovered my life, I've recovered my career. I no longer have full-blown clinical anorexia. But have I set up camp here?

Sort of, I've found my plot. But in saying that, I'm suggesting that I have totally overcome anorexia. Out the other side, reached that recovery cove I once referred to. I may have out swam the sharks, I may have reached the other side of the recovery ocean, But it doesn't mean I'm settled here.

Now is where I perhaps rest my arms and legs a little after almost drowning and the epic swim that was treatment. Now is where I start to explore the new place I am in, walk along the shore a little. Now is the time to use the survival skills I've been taught by Dr. B, Mrs. W, Ms F. and others - and make my own way here.

After all, explorers don't land in new places and have a ready made camp, do they? It's about arriving on new shores and using the skills picked up along the way to carve a new life. And this is where life, and my recovery is now. Not over, just me, my life, moving on in a new place. 

One of the quotes my recovery tattoo relates to is apt here too.

The Epic Recovery Road Trip

I've never been a random road trip girl. I'm much more a step-by-step directions, plans and packing in order person. I always want an itinerary, need to prepare a picnic and I need to know where I'm going. 

Organised? Yes. Well-planned trips? Yes. 

Do I struggle when I get lost, can't see the route clearly? Yes. 

Recovery is an epic road trip. 

You know the destination, but there are no step-by-step directions, there is no estimated arrival time and you're behind the wheel, whether you like it or not. 

There's no escaping the fact that you NEED to be on-board and buckled up for the journey to happen. 

You're controlling the wheel, the accelerator and the brakes. This journey needs you as much as you need the journey.

It's never going to happen without you, you can sit in the car forever, but if you're not willing to start the engine, then you'll never get to your destination. 

Therapists, friends and family are passengers helping you out, advising you of the roads to avoid and reminding you that turning back and driving straight back home is a waste of what could potentially be the best holiday of your life at the other end. 

That U-turn and drive back seems so tempting when you're hot and bothered and a little bit lost. You know the way home and you know it's safe, comfortable and what's waiting back there. You can shut the front door and pretend you weren't really 'that bothered' about the trip or holiday anyway. (Yeah, right!)

You know the destination exists, people have been there before and told you how epically amazing it is. You'll love it, you know you will. You're so far into the journey that I'd would be ridiculous to turn back now, (I can't just stop here, and seriously, what a waste of fuel that would be, right?) 

You have so much baggage,  'ARE WE NEARLY THERE YET?' is constantly going round your head and there are still no clear directions.

You just wish someone could give you some idea of the next step or turning or better still, drive for you. But they can't.

It's frustrating, it's annoying, I started the engine, I want to drive, I'm on-board, I've been driving for SO LONG. I just want to know when I'll get there, as do my passengers.  

I need a list, I need to know which exit sign I need to take and what the next road looks like. I can feel the need to know where I am heading stopping me. So, I keep slamming the brakes on until someone answers me.

But that's getting me nowhere. 

This road trip is a long one (think Route 66 times a hundred) with so many potholes ready to trip you up and there is never going to be a step-by-step route planner that works for everyone, we all find a different way to the same destination, from different start points. 

I guess we just need to trust the driver and not give up on what will possibly be the most epic road trip we'll ever embark on. 

Nobody likes being left at home (or worse still a motel or motorway service station half way there) and remember, you need to keep the fuel tank full to keep driving and trust the road you're on. You might not have a map, but you're doing okay. The journey can be an adventure too, if we allow it to be.

Now, can someone just get this girl a bottle of Diet Coke, a picnic and SatNav please?