Of course it didn't happen overnight; what had been an integral part of my life, at times the most important part, the one thing I desperately clung to, didn't suddenly disappear. It had taken years. But that very night, whose date I don't remember, marks my declaration of recovery, as it was then that I realised that my life was no longer controlled by the eating disorder. I wasn't controlled by it. I was free. I am free.
I still prefer to think of myself as free, rather than recovered, for the simple reason that I never regarded myself as being ill. I don't know what it says in my medical files; whether I was ever certified as being ill, or for that matter recovered. But it doesn't matter. To me, the eating disorder, all those anorexic years, weren't an illness; it was my way of living. What probably initally started out as a coping mechanism, that became a way of life, that became a disorder that took over my life and almost killed me. But not an illness or sickness. It was more than that; it was my entire life. It was what I grew up with, what I matured in parallel with, something that had always been there. I didn't have a "before" to compare with or fall back on; I don't remember a before, I was too young then. So my way out wasn't about rehabilitation, but habilitation; it wasn't about finding a way back to a healthy life, but about figuring out what a free, recovered, healthy life was for me. There was no key to this particular equation; I had to find it for myself. I had to create, or discover (rediscover?), an identity without anorexia. And, for that matter, without a whole bunch of other things. It took me a couple of years, but I got there. Obviously.
Everything wasn't great that September night; everything still isn't. From time to time, I go through periods of anxiety, I tend to get depressed when I get exhausted, at times I've got a head full of thoughts about whether or not what I'm feeling is normal. I'm human, everything will never be great. But I no longer self-destruct when I feel bad, I don't place my feelings on the plate before me or in the loo. I'm not eating disordered any more. The dark mirror has lost its grip and lure; I am free.
