Start at the very beginning

Discharged. It felt like such an official word. Its seriousness no longer seemed to match my experience. 

When I was “admitted’ to The Emily Program’s intensive outpatient program (IOP) for eating disorder treatment, I needed serious, official language that reminded me how serious and official my problem was. 

Three years later, I walked out of that familiar brick building that used to be a bank. Changed. Different. I had started my new beginning while still in treatment. But when a new beginning begins, you’re understandably wary. 

Is this the time it sticks? 

Is this really a beginning or just a blip?

Can I trust the start of something new?

At first, new beginnings must be practiced. You’re shaky and unstable, teaching your brain a new way to be by just going through the motions. Everyone says that it’ll eventually become second nature, but I’m too smart to assume I’ll make it that far. 

Recovery took effort, and so does maintenance. Getting officially discharged is a stamp of approval, but it’s not a guarantee of stability. 

I learned that some days it won’t feel like work. The second nature myth becomes a reality and I am blissfully free. But I’ll never be a person without an eating disorder history. 

Some days will require me to practice the skills I learned in treatment, breathing deeply and speaking to myself with compassion. These are helpful practices no matter who you are, but they become life-saving when you’re plagued with the mental health diagnosis that claims the most lives each year. 

My new beginning hasn’t really transformed me; it merely reverted me back to my original settings. It made space for me to remember who I actually am, and gave me the permission to be her. 

Ya know what? I love bread! And cheese!

I don’t care for zucchini and I’ll only eat my eggs scrambled. 

Sometimes I’ll pass up dessert, other times I’ll take two slices, please. 

I’m tapping back into my true preferences and desires and perspectives. But I also know that they’re allowed to change. I’m fluid, dynamic, human.

I get to embrace cream cheese one day, and condemn it the next. 

I get to maintain a pixie cut for over a decade, then grow my hair as long as it will go. 

I have choices. I am flexible. I know that keeping my new beginning afloat is a battle. I am willing to continue to be honest with myself, leaning in to the team of support that has been unflinchingly reliable.

I get to wonder if my new beginning allowed me to let love and relationship back into my life. I get to experiment with different ways to make my beginning even more enhanced. 

I get to know that my beginning wasn’t the end of anything, but rather a choice to stare down the fork in the road and take the path less traveled.