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Stories of Recovery
I am looking for new stories of recovery to post in the Recovery Spotlight. Please submit to ktippen@mindfullness.com. Your story can be a source of inspiration and encouragement to many. Let us learn from each other. As I await your voices, I will share an experience of one living with anorexia-from someone now fully recovered!
The Early Battle
Candles from last year’s Thanksgiving centerpiece had scarred the oak of the kitchen table. Rubbing this spot, I remained fascinated by the one dark flaw amongst the pristine mauve and taupe kitchen. I wondered how long it would be until my mother replaced the table. My gaze drifted to the four eyes staring down at me, and I realized war had begun.
The kitchen of my youth had become the jail cell of my young adulthood. I crossed my arms across my chest and ignored the cold bowl of oatmeal before me. I stared at them blankly.
I was walking a tightrope between life and death each day. The eyes staring down at me had been watching me closely the past two months. The lumpy bowl of Cream of Wheat between us had become the battlefield representing their unspoken fears and my newfound identity. Our eyes were daring one another to win.
My dad spoke first.
“You are going to finish that before you go to bed tonight.”
My mom shot him a look and tentatively offered the ever present idea of compromise. “How about just a couple bites?”
I rewarded both demands with a sullen look and left the table without a word. Taking a deep breath I descended the plush taupe stairs, ignoring the effort it took to do so.
Entering the immaculate bedroom, my attention immediately riveted to the full length glistening obsession before me. Disgusted by the emaciated reflection before me, I whispered my silent, regular affirmation to eat less the next day.
I crawled into bed, as the Devil Anorexia lulled my buzzing head and screaming body into an uneasy sleep.
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