Love, Recovery.

After a decade of hell, I am in recovery, and this is how it happened. 'Love, Recovery' isn't an easy blog post to write because there have been many hardships and losses that have led up to the beautiful occurrence of recovery. My recovery is a convoluted topic, as are most, I think.

---

I attribute my decision to recover to three key things. The first reason was my mum. She'd become not just desperate but broken. I saw her in fragments when I had always seen her as ‘whole’. I think that as a child, you view your mum as an invincible superhuman who nurtures and provides for you. And to think I had allowed my anorexia to break that version of her down made me feel sick. I realised I was ruining the one person who had always unconditionally loved, cherished, and adored me. And I couldn't look myself in the mirror any longer, knowing what I was doing to her.

My love for my mum conquered my decade-long battle with anorexia.

The pivotal point, however, was when she told me for the third and what would be the final time that I was no longer welcome in her home if I were to continue to starve myself before her heartaching eyes. I knew she was serious the first time she said it, and also the second, but my obsession with anorexia kept me a slave to it, despite my conscious willingness to change for her. But her time for second chances was up, and I understood that very clearly with the mannerisms and tone in which she conveyed her message to me. I understood in a way I hadn't before that although I could move out, that would be the action that said 'I love anorexia more than I love you' and I knew, deep within me, that this was not true. If I were to convey that message to my mum and move out, I would never forgive myself, for she has loved me more than anyone and everything since I was first conceived. I love recovery, because every time I choose it, I am also showing my mum that I choose her.

---

The second reason was Chen, my godfather. He died, suddenly, very young, and the mourning in our family and his was harrowing to me.

I grew aware of how much your life can mean to someone else.

And it shocked me by just how much. It shocked me because he was twice my age, and everyone felt that he died too young. So I looked into myself and recognised that if I were to die from anorexia within the year that I was given, at 23, it would be a tragedy despite my feeling that I add little value to the world. His passing sits like a boulder on my chest; a constant reminder that life is, in fact, precious.

---

It feels wrong to write 'the final reason' because in my experience of recovery, I find reasons every single day to recover; my family, seeing dolphins at the beach, or remembering how good it feels to laugh. So, for lack of a better phrase, the final pivotal reason that initially instilled recovery into my life was Stuart, the mindset coach for elite athletes. No, Dolls: not an eating disorder specialist and not a health professional. His expertise lies in helping elite athletes overcome internal obstacles to perform to their best ability. Similarly, he helped me find a future worth fighting for so that I could allow the present and my future to not be defined by my past. Through his guidance, I thoroughly and meticulously outlined the future I desired, and I quickly realised that recovery was the only way to continue to live and chase my goals if the future I, oh so desired, was going to be there waiting for me. And I knew I was running out of time. So it feels fucking beautiful to be able to say that I'm not running out of time anymore.

---

I am so incredibly grateful for the reasons that have allowed me to finally do the one thing I never thought I could. I prove to myself every day that recovery is possible for anyone, even those who don’t believe it themselves.

Kisses,

COS x