If this is my story, then it’s just the barest bones of it so far. The skeleton of it, except obviously not literally any more. Three and a half months since I committed to recovery for good, and it was a terrifying decision to make – to be well, forever. Three meals a day for the rest of my life; never be that thin again. It was time, and I was ready for it – it was long overdue, honestly. But it was still a terrifying decision and, because secrecy is such an integral part of eating disorders, I found myself completely on my own with it.
Three or four weeks ago, I was alone in the house and I couldn’t sleep, and perhaps it was the middle of the night talking, but I just didn’t think I could do it anymore. I was eating like a fucking nutritionist but nothing was changing, and the initial pride and success was wearing off, and I was still just scared, and fat, and – I was lying there crying myself half to death, and then I went upstairs and sat on the bathroom floor – you know, the way I used to sit in the days I’d choke my guts up into the toilet bowl – and just sobbed, and I wanted to pray, or something, but I had nothing to pray to. I needed someone to look me in the eyes and tell me I wasn’t alone, and that things would be okay.
And I saw this:
I know this is about LGBT bullying, but I think it’s something that applies to everyone who’s struggling with something that no one understands and that they feel completely on their own with. It was what I needed anyway – I must have watched that video twenty times, until I knew it off by heart and could say the words along with Chris. And I knew I would get up in the morning and have breakfast, and I knew I would keep fighting.
So, one way or another, Chris Colfer has somehow become my poster boy for recovery. Honestly, he gives me courage – and I haven’t chosen that word at random. In his current Glee storyline, courage is the word Blaine texts Kurt in the face of LGBT bullying: courage is the word you hold in your heart to keep you going, however overwhelming the world becomes. And as I’ve learned more about Chris – he’s kind of a geek, and he has a severely epileptic sister (I have an epileptic brother and sister, although not as severe as his), and he was bullied a lot at school – I’ve been able to relate to him more and more, and he gives me the hope I need. That it will get better.
Know that you have friends, you are loved, and that you are not alone. And know that despite such a current challenging time, there is so much to look forward to. I promise, it gets so much better.