Image: @matusfiItell my story.
I tell it because I can. I tell it because I survived.
I tell it because my recovery made me become the person I am proud of, the person I am today.
Thoughts circled in my head and the shame spiral began as I questioned, “how could I share my story?”
Was I sick enough? Am I good enough?
And the question that was holding me back,“what will people think?”
How can I tell a story that I have spent so much time and effort hiding from? How can I tell strangers about my struggle, my feelings of unworthiness?
How can I admit as a therapist and professional that I struggled?
I thought the friends and the community I grew up in that I tried so hard to impress.
…tried so hard to be perfect
And then I realized they will know me.
They will know who I have become and how hard I fought to become her, someone strong, someone healthy and someone who believes and trust in herself.
So I began to write my story…
And remember who I was before recovery.
My thoughts filled with calories and numbers.
My wishes of people liking me.
My feelings of failure.
The pain I felt.
The girl who felt undeserving of food, undeserving of love.
The story of the girl who got the help she needed.
The love and acceptance she wanted so badly from others,
that she finally gave herself.
So, I tell my story
I tell my story so that you know you are not alone,
that it isn’t your fault, that you didn’t choose this