A few days ago, I was cleaning out an old closet and came across a stack of journals. I love looking back in journals from different times in my life, so out of curiosity, I began to browse the old notebooks filled with memories. But, there are some memories that are better left in cluttered closets.
I picked up the worn pink and green journal with my name written sloppily on the spine. Inside, filled from the first page to the last, was nothing but memories from before my recovery. On these pages, I saw a frustrated, broken girl who felt like a prisoner in her own body. This was a girl who tried so desperately to be free from her eating disorder (ED), but was trapped in a viscous mindset of self-hatred.
I feel so separated from the girl who wrote these pages. I traded my freedom for a false sense of control and it only brought me pain. It took years for me to realize that it was not my job to be in control, but my privilege and right to graciously live in the freedom God gave me.
Sometimes you have to lose your control in order to gain your freedom.
On the final page of my notebook, there is a single paragraph that reads:
“Things are getting better. I now see the light at the end of the tunnel. This will all be put behind me. Finally, I will be able to restart my life and move on. A new chapter of my life. I will be able to help others who suffer the way I have these past few years. To be able to help would be amazing, but first I must be right by myself.”