My recovery has nurtured the seedling inside my soul into a blossoming floweret. I feel I have a pretty acute awareness and understanding of who I am and what I like. As the school year comes to a close, I cannot help but think how far I have come since the beginning of the year. Some of my main goals for Sophomore year was to acquire more confidence, be more gregarious with my peers, and focus on my studies. While there is always room for improvement, I believe I have achieved more than what I ever imagined. I wish I could adopt the mindset I had when I first started recovery so I could accurately reflect on everything I have accomplished.
I am! I simply am. And I’m so lucky and grateful to be alive. Each morning as the sun filtrates into my windows, my heart swells with jovial delight. Beauty lies within even the most obscure objects. I adore the thin slivers of golden rays that dance upon my typewriter in the morning. I love the way the world glitters as the sun shifts its positions throughout the day. I possess an infatuation with peculiar objects, artistic cinema, and books. If only you could experience what it was like to live in the chiaroscuro world of an eating disorder. I was balanced on a trapeze rope; coquetting with the apathy of death while tenuously adhering to the hope of life. The turmoil associated with yearning for eternal sleep yet fighting for the right of survival destroyed everything in my world. I was a gaping abyss devoid of any mirth or vivacity.
When that hazardous balance begins to shift, you grope desperately in the darkness for something to grasp onto. Even as I lied in the wake of my destruction and reveled in the accomplishment I associated with my demise, I still fought for the little I had. I managed to acquire enough willpower and strength to lift myself out of the ashes and drag my cadaverous spirit towards whatever lay on the other side of my skewed world. Initially, I was dubious; I tread carefully and struggled to trust those who claimed they could help me. Before my hospital scare, there was no life beyond what I had. Those without eating disorders lived in another Universe. I had successfully alienated myself.
Through my tribulations, I destroyed the iron cage wrapped around my mind and shed my sallow skin. I emerged victorious. I triumphed the evil that had wretched my heart and skewed my perception. The excruciating pain was alleviated through laughter, tenderness, and therapy. My threadlike hair grew thick and lustrous as my skin grew rosy and smooth. I was no longer skin stretched over bone; I was healthy, my cheeks were rosy, and my painted lips were always upturned. I loved and loved until I quivered and quaked. Everything was so beautiful. I began to feel everything so deeply and fiercely that I could barely contain myself.
Since that day, my love and passion for living has grown. I see myself for who I am everyday as I look in the mirror. I am a feminist. I am a liberal. I am an artist. I am a writer. I am whoever I wish to be. Now, I realize I have shifted my train of thought from one thing to another and so I wish to address what I initially intended on saying. Perfection is merely something that only exists figuratively. I have tried to obtain it and I ultimately failed. With this knowledge, I have accepted my lot in life. I have embraced what I have and what I am. And this, for me, is the greatest accomplishment.
“Riots not Diets”. Chant it within your head. Enlighten others with it. It should be looked down upon to criticize and punish yourself for being who you are. Because god dammit, you are. Simply are. The revolution that will destroy self-hatred starts with acceptance. Love and cherish yourself. And as one, all girls shall unite to destroy female stereotypes, gender standards, dieting, hateful names, discrimination, and misogyny.
My darlings, my fellow females, you possess the power to rule the world.