one week

Today marks a week of change. A week since I slightly hopelessly (admittedly, I doubted myself completely) wrote out my new commitment to really genuinely try not to use ED behaviours and actually give myself a chance to move forward. And I, a cynic when it comes to myself relating to these situations, am amazed to see myself typing this: I cannot believe the vastness of the differences that have occurred over the course of a week!

• I can get out of bed in the mornings again - don't have to roll onto the floor and crawl up; I actually wake up feeling like the sleep has refreshed me slightly.
• mornings aren't 4:30am wake ups - I've been sleeping until 6am most days this week.
• this whole 'training to be a doctor' thing is actually back on my radar - GP placement on Tuesday reminded me that I am capable; I am competent and I have the capacity to really help people in the future with this path.
• my singing voice has power and strength again
• I can worship without feeling like a hypocrite
• I can drink tea and actually enjoy it, instead of downing it to fill myself up
• I'm not scared to see the people I love (most of the time)
• I had my first week back at football last night,  and I remembered how much I love it
• I'm leading worship at the uni CU meeting on Monday night - and I'm excited
•  I actually feel like I want to live again

This has shown me that I am far less helpless than I thought; nothing has changed with my situation in terms of professional help etc, but I made a decision and followed it through by God's grace, and all this has changed. I'm proud of myself; that's hard to say because there's still a huge part of me that's screaming 'noo, you were doing so well, why are you letting the control go, you're going to be fat etc etc' but that's eating disordered lies. That isn't Anna and that certainly isn't God, and those - particularly the latter - are who I want in control of my life.

As I journalled yesterday 'this is the bit of recovery that's hard and real. Not the breakthroughs and the dramatic progress moments, but waking up each morning and feeling huge and eating breakfast through the panic and sitting with the feelings in tears. Crouching alone on your bed in the dark and desperately convincing yourself that this is right when it just feels wrong. It's easier choosing recovery once but it has to be chosen every second of every minute of every day and that's painful and exhausting. It takes everything you have and more because the energy does run out and you give everything to find it's not quite enough. But that's why recovery isn't something that can be done solo. That's why I fight against pride and overindependence and say 'Lord please, I need Your strength more than ever'. That's why, this morning, I choose to lift my eyes.'

Of course, this is very much still the beginning. I'm still underweight and I'm still not eating enough or enough variety and I can see disordered behaviours all around. I'm scared and I know I will need huge amounts of help to keep moving forward - but a beginning is enough. This time, I'm determined to use last week's rock bottom as my 'enough is enough' - to hand over my ashes and let it get messy.

'There is nothing that God cannot turn around to glorify His name - nothing' 

Today, I'm clinging to that truth.