Bliss

 

 

 

Sometimes life gives us these incredible moments of unbridled joy. Pure happiness and love embrace us, and as our minds drink in the contentment of a perfect moment, life’s challenges seem less daunting, memories less painful.

July 2013 was a gift. This is the first summer in two years that I have not been in the hospital, and I was given the opportunity to celebrate. Not in the conventional “balloons and cake” sense—this was a little more abstract, and more meaningful than I could have imagined. I spent an entire month doing things that wouldn’t have been possible when I was sick. I visited my family for two weeks, I laughed and cried with my cousin (my first, and best friend), I ate pancakes in a parking lot while watching people dance to live music at the Calgary Stampede, I watched my “little” cousin marry an amazing woman I’m proud to call family, and I drank in every single moment of our time together. I spent so many years completely detached from happiness and enjoyment that I found myself, many times, taking a step back to truly appreciate this experience.

One week later, I saw my precious friend. We met in treatment (we started the same day), and spent 3 months together, inseparable (believe me, they tried and failed). Our friendship formed because we both had eating disorders and were seeking treatment at the same time, but I truly believe we met each other for a reason. We’ve remained very close as our journeys take us towards life, and this year we got to spend a week together, without hospitals, meal plans, or overwhelming food fears and restrictions.

Seeing her happy and glowing, watching her eyes sparkle as we talked until early in the morning about everything made me appreciate her even more. I don’t often think about the danger we were both in, but I know there was a very good chance that we could have never met. To see us both in a place of health warmed my heart. We lived like crazy that week! Spontaneous overnight trips, little night time adventures, serious talks, hours of laughter. I enjoyed every second, and food was just an accessory to our time together. I didn’t dread or obsess over anything we ate-my focus was on my time with her.

As I traveled back home, towards reality and routine, I couldn’t shake the lump in my throat. I don’t think it was that sad, empty feeling I used to get when saying goodbye-it was incredibly hard saying goodbye to everyone, but the sadness was overpowered by gratitude and joy. I’m well enough to do these things now! I don’t have to watch everyone else living life while I destroy mine–I’m an active participant. And that, my friends, makes all those years of struggle, in my honest opinion, completely worth it.

xoxo,

B

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I have been blessed by an almost unmeasurable number of these, beautiful “memory snapshots”