Maybe it’s because I’m listening to some vintage John Mayer (Room for Squares — holla!), or the fact that I’ve spent the last 30 minutes wistfully looking through old pictures of my family, but here I am, back at the keyboard, taking on a subject that has been weighing on my heart all day today.
I’m not going to lie…I found myself lying awake at 2am last night, with this pit in my stomach. And no…it has nothing to do with the nerves of excitement I may feel about my date tomorrow. Or the trepidation I feel about the fact that there is now Pumpkin Spice flavored toothpaste…
It was because, recently, my authenticity has been questioned by a few people.
Not authenticity in my recovery. But the authenticity of my character. Who I am.
And I’m going to be really honest here…it hurt.
Please don’t read this as a cry for affirmation or attention or fishing for praise or anything like that. This is just me, being open and painfully honest with my friends.
Writing this blog, though I love it, is a bit frightening. Nerve wracking. Anxiety inducing sometimes. Bearing my soul to almost 18,000 people…that’s some scary crap.
But every time I go to hit publish, I just remember that I’m writing for an audience of One. And it is my deepest prayer that this blog may stumble into the hands of even one person who needs some hope.
But what hurt the most about these recent remarks of skepticism, is that the whole point of this blog – the purpose of this “podunk ministry” – has been founded on being transparent — painfully transparent: Sharing my past and all the garbage that accompanies it, illustrating current prayers/fears/hopes/struggles/funny moments, and hopefully future lessons and growth. I’m literally holding nothing back…however irresponsible that may be.
But more than that…my recovery from anorexia has been about remembering who I was.
My favorite way to sum up recovery is this: Allowing myself to become who I’d always been.
Because the truth is, I lost who I was during my disease. The vibrant, loving, carefree girl with hopes and dreams and faith and spunk and sassiness and a thirst for life & love & God — she was trampled, suffocated by ED.
One of the exercises we did during family week at inpatient was an art project where we had to depict how the anorexia impacted you. Each person in my family had to make something, including me.
And I made a black box…a coffin. And inside the coffin I put rainbow confetti. My anorexia was the box and my previous self was the rainbow construction paper. It had put to death the girl who was once full of life.
And my recovery has been about finding that girl. Rediscovering the rainbow confetti of my soul. Of my spirit.
Remembering who I was – at my core…and then allowing myself to become that girl again.
2 Corinthians 5:17 When you were dead…God made you alive with Christ.
That’s full recovery.
That’s what this journey is all about.
And that’s what I’ve been doing on this blog – remembering and liberating the authentic me. The genuine me that has so long been shut away.
And that’s why this blog is so near and dear to my heart. Because each one of you has been so accepting and loving towards the true me, as I’ve shakily stretched my wings for the first time.
So why am I saying this.
I guess I just want to express that…this is me. I mean every word I write on this blog, every reply, every eye-roll-inducing cheesy quip that I just can’t resist…this is who I am.
I hope that you sense the authenticity of me: Caralyn. Because I really do hold each person who reads this blog in my heart and in my prayers. And I am genuinely grateful for the friendships and little community we have here.
Sending massive hugs and love — and yes — I mean that 🙂
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