In this beautiful letter to herself a woman, whom I had the privilege to work with, wrote her personal reasons for wanting to recover. I was so moved by this statement of self love and respect I asked if she would please share in hopes that it would inspire others.

You don’t have to have this eloquent of a “why” statement, but I do encourage you to write out why YOU want to recover. What will you be able to do that you can’t while staying in your disorder? Read it every day. If you feel bold, please share in the comments, perhaps it will inspire someone else.

“People say motivation doesn’t last. Well, neither does bathing, which is why we recommend it daily.” -Zig Ziglar

“My Why”

I want my desires back. I want my sense of belonging back, my right to belong. I want my voice back — my own voice that listens to my desires from a place of giving my body freedom to just be, to just be comforted, to just be heard, to come out of my own shadows, to regain self-trust and self-approval, to recognize that while my body may expand or contract, it is an injustice when I fall short of being a safe confidante to my body.

It is similar to living a lie, to gaslighting my body into believing that it is wholly wrong.

Overriding my body, judging my body, slandering my body, muting those voices within my body is almost akin to perpetrating a crime against all of me. In some ways, it also adds up to me becoming my own judge and jury and, so-to-speak, to being my own executioner.

That all shapes up to me becoming a threat to my own being, a threat to my own survival. It poses a form of self-harm. Self-harm be gone.

I want to be in conversation with my body — to mind my body by mining for the gold within its contours, between the layers of my skin, in my jiggly, squishy or soft rolls.

Otherwise, I am and may forever be constrained by cultural chatter that breeds fear of food and fear of self.

Otherwise, I am confused by mixed signals, and I easily misunderstand my own self, my own wisdom, my own nature.

Otherwise, eating enters a state of chaos and confusion.

Otherwise, I live by dictates of “should I?” or “should I not?”

Otherwise, I omit all questions about my desires and about my deeply personal choices for food and in life.

I want the memories I have of meals to be soothing memories, and I want to be able to connect food and meals to comforting thoughts — not to feelings of restraint or to lost opportunities for self-connection. I don’t want to be my own troll, posting critical messages in my mind concerning food.

In the end, I want to rethink my life, rethink the words I speak to myself, rethink the actions I take around current meals and meals that I am planning. I want to arrive at my table open and curious.

I want to readily pull up a seat at the table and honestly be all I am. All I am, meaning welcoming my whole self — knowing my vulnerabilities, subtleties, and nuances and sitting with and helping myself to meet my truest desires. All I am, meaning that I fill my plate in tandem with becoming a more fulfilled self.

In the end, I no longer want to forsake myself. I want to feel that I deserve a place setting and a place at my own table — and in the communal table of the larger world.   

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