What My Suicide Attempt Taught Me About Love

For as long as I could remember, all that I wanted was to die. Being a survivor of incest, I saw no other solution to the shame I felt. I could imagine no other way to escape my eating disorder.

It’s a shame that so much of the love we have for others isn’t expressed until it is too late.

In my darkest hours I dreamed about my own funeral. So much so that in the spring of last year when I attempted suicide, I posted a brief but poignant message on Facebook: “remember me with love, not hate”.

Longing for love

I longed to feel loved. For almost 20 years, I thought that the only way I could feel loved and cared for was to have an eating disorder and need to be looked after. I was literally and figuratively starving for love.

My suicide attempt was another desperate cry for help. Even though I was shown so much love after, it still wasn’t enough. The love from others wasn’t filling me the way I expected it to.

After beginning treatment and recovery from my eating disorder, I finally found the kind of love I had been searching for the whole time: self love.

You see, what I didn’t know is that until we love ourselves – we cannot fully appreciate the love from those around us. Only since accepting myself – flaws and all – have I finally felt loved. And, in turn, I’ve been able to love those around me with all my heart.

The end of ED

These days, I don’t dream about any funeral except one: the funeral of ED. However, unlike most funeral services, ED’s funeral would be a solo affair. There would be no one expressing their love in a heart-felt eulogy, and no gathering afterwards for the mourners to share happy stories.

With that, please join me in celebrating love… which is the nail that must be driven into ED’s coffin to begin the journey of recovery.

Enter into the fullness of self-love at the School of Recovery!

Learn how HERE 💛

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