Lately, I’ve been discovering what it means to be “human” in recovery. How do I support myself, and in turn support others, without judgment, expectations, or that overwhelming urge to “fix” it? How do I mess up AND continue forward? When is it okay for me to be weak when I’m “supposed” to be strong? I never wanted to be human in my life. I was a ballerina—I was ethereal, a mythical creature…I was superhuman. And ED always confirmed that and showed me how to stay that way.
Recovery is such the opposite. Here, I’m supposed to be messy, clumsy, and imperfect. I guess what I’ve learned is some of the most brilliant pieces of art are grotesque and discordant up close, and when we step away to see the whole thing…amidst the chaos and repulsion there is harmony and tranquility, and all of these qualities are what makes the art so magnificent. And that’s what being human is…it’s not beautiful, though beauty can be found. My humanity (and my recovery) is a magnificent piece of art.
Lyndzi
Alum
Rosewood Centers for Eating Disorders
