I stepped out of the mirror years ago, and yet... I can't help but wondering whether I will ever truly leave it. Whether it will leave me. Perhaps I will forever live in the shadow of the mirror that for so long held me captivated; a prisoner of my own fears and twisted ideals. Don't get me wrong, the mirror no longer controls me, and it has nowhere near as great a hold on me as it used to have, but there is still a strange fascination and at times a temptation, an enticement. It can lure me, but I know far too well what I have to lose to want to give in.
I am recovered, as far as recovery ever seems to go. There is no way to sandblast away what was or the reminders of what I spend so many years doing to myself, and I have no desire to. I am the sum of my experiences, my knowledge, my healing as well as my wounds, and to deny my past would be to deny my self. When I say that I am recovered, I mean that I no longer live with an eating disorder 24/7, or even an hour a week. Anorexia no longer controls my every move and thought. I don't starve or purge or binge because life seems unsurmountable or I feel like crap, I no longer give in to impulses of self-destruction or endulge in self-injurious behaviours on a regular basis. I live a fairly normal life with fairly normal behaviours - as far as I've been able to understand "normal" anyway. I think I will always be recover-ED. A sober, non-starving, non-purging anorexic. Can there be anything else after 25 years on the other side of the mirror?
This state of being recoverED is not a bad thing. In fact, it's wonderful. Even the dark days are better than how the light days were there, on the other side. They sure can feel darker, but how could it be otherwise; this life has nuances, an endless display of colour, light and darkness; countless emotions, although I am still struggling with them. As I let more light in, the darkness seemed darker, more scary even, for a time. In all honesty, I still feel more comfortable in the dark, with the darkness, the deeper emotions, the introspection, the raw feelings in the depths of being. I like the light, but it somehow seems... insubstantial in comparison. Superficial. Love and light and sweetness and all that. But life is more than love and light - it's also death and pain and darkness. I grow by passing through the dark patches, by breaking through the veils of fear that still surround me. By walking through the darkness, going through the deepest depths of despair to reemerge in the light. I feel at home in the dark, but I need to balance it with light to be able to live. Too much dark breeds depression. Just like a plant needs light to survive, so do I.
But I am still not so sure about being normal. Whatever that is. When I think "normal", I still get a feeling of mediocrity, being average, not being special, being invisible. That form of normality is not for me, and I have finally realised that without feeling that I should make excuses for wanting to be like everyone else. I am beginning to realise that my balance, my state of normality is not necessarily trapped in the in-between space between the highs and the lows, the grey-scales of the comfort zone where you are safe and don't stand out too much; my in-between is a balance between the highs and lows where I get them in a more or less equal amount. But it's still a bit scary to fully accept that some people will always see me as "too much" as I don't want to live life in greytones or in a comfort zone of being average. I am not average. I am me.
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