Some people think that because I preach recovery and strength that I have forgotten the darkness that my life was, but to be honest it is still here. I am in one of the darkest periods of my life right now, and it takes everything I have in me to get out of bed everyday...to keep up the fight. I can preach the good stuff, I can tell you what you need to do and how life can get better, but I've promised on this blog not to lie. The fact is that no matter how much you fight in life bad things happen and you have to decide if that bad is enough to take away everything you've worked for, everyday you didn't starve, purge, cut, swallow those pills, or whatever your vice is.
It isn't a shock that I have had a rough time since this summer, but very few know the details. I will not share some things because I'm not ready, but in July a monster made his way into my home attempting to break up my family. For three weeks he used threats against my child to keep me captive in my own house. I had thought that I had seen evil, that I had been through hell, but realized that I hadn't seen anything until those three weeks. He took over my Facebook, my computer, my phone, and any other contact with the outside world. People ask why I didn't say anything...fear...for my son and for myself. I was obedient to avoid punishment. I learned what hell was during those three weeks, that monster broke me in more ways than I ever thought possible, and the only thing that kept me going was my son.
It was three weeks before good friends and my now husband were able to get him away. The whole ordeal ended with me spending the next week in the hospital because the stress had caused my GP to flare to the point that I couldn't tolerate anything, they had to run tons of electrolytes, antibiotics, and kept me pretty out of it on pain meds. I was so messed up from that monster that when my husband came home he couldn't even touch me without permission, I slept curled up in a chair with him next to me on the floor when I woke up screaming. No one had a clue any of this went on, we got through it together and thought we were on the road to healing.
The lies that man spread ended with the man I love sitting in a prison with his probation revoked away from this family. I have been a single mom since November, been more alone than I can even put to words. I have been running on the strength I get from being a mommy because he needs me more than ever at this point. I thought I could handle this as long as things didn't get worse...they got worse.
In the beginning of Feb I lost the woman who I loved more than anything, who sat on the phone with me for hours every night to a stroke. The only person besides my mother, who I lost years ago that I know loved me despite all my screw ups and wicked things I have said or done in my youth. It broke my heart in more ways that I can possibly tell you, and then a few days later I find myself laying in a hospital bed with my son going off to stay with friends until I get better. I had to have a major surgery that still has left me in bed unable to do much despite being home now. I have found myself in the darkest part of my life, feeling completely alone despite having people around me.
Am I strong...no, I fall on my knees every night crying, begging God to take my pain away and I fight those old urges to starve and bleed more than ever. Being in recovery hasn't some how made my life easier or stopped the suffering that can come in life. I fight tooth and nail to get through the day and even harder through the night. I have a handful of people who I know I can turn to when I can't make it on my own anymore, but it is still hard. I have to make the decision the fight to keep myself going despite the pain, knowing that it got better before and it will get better again. The tough times don't go away because you are in recovery, sometimes things are worse than you ever thought they could be. I never thought I could be here, never thought I could survive the things that have happened in the last eight months, and I'm here. I fight everyday and the nights seem impossible, but I'm here and I'm nourished as much as my sick body will allow, and despite the countless times I have held razors in my hands I haven't broken my flesh. I've learned that sometimes the suffering has to happen for some reason, and at the end of the day I have the choice to destroy myself or fight for what I have. When you look at might life it might not be much, but it is mine and it is more than I deserve, and I will fight for it no matter what it takes.
When the tough times hit you get the choice, I'm not saying you can't fall apart because I do all the time, but you can go back to the eating disorder, the pills, the razor, the bottle, or whatever and they aren't going to help you. They don't make the pain go away, they mask it for a minute and you find yourself back in the same situation you were in before. Recovery is hard, it is hard on the first day and it is hard on the six hundredth day. I wish I could tell you that it will just go away and life will be rainbows and butterflies, but in my experience it doesn't, you have to learn to find your happiness where the Lord gives it to you, and sometimes it is in the smallest moments. At the end of the day you can fight or give in, either way it is your choice, not your circumstance.
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