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I’ve never known what loving my body looks like, or feels like, or is supposed to entail.
I’ve been working for almost five years now at cultivating love for my larger, in-recovery body after living for nearly 15 years deep in eating disorders, and I still fall short.
But while I don’t yet love the body I have now, recovery is slowly teaching me to treat it with kindness and gentleness.
To honor myself in small, but powerful ways.
To keep pushing forward even when I’m sitting in the middle of the sh*t and feel like I absolutely can’t.
Recovery is teaching me there’s a different way to approach my body than self-destruction and hate.
Different things it needs.
Recovery is teaching me one day is worth 1,000 victories, and 1,000 days are only worth the one in front of you.
The one you’re fighting for.
The one you’re conquering.
Recovery is changing me. Slowly but surely, as small doses of dignity and pride return, along with hope for a future.
Because recovery does that—it changes us.
It molds us.
It shapes us.
It creates a new person where the disordered one used to be.
And so we fight for it.
One day, hour, minute at a time.
So here’s your reminder for today to keep going: I believe in you.