As I sit here in the Chicago, OHARE airport, I cannot help but find myself reflecting on the differences that abound in one year. One year. 365 Days. Sounds like the beginning of a soundtrack song from Rent. But seriously? Wow. What a year!
I am sitting at a delightful little Mediterranean café in the airport, B-wing, as I wait for my flight to board later this afternoon. I am sipping my ice-cold Diet Coke and nibbling on the last slice of the personal pizza I ordered – grilled on tomato-flatbread, Feta and Parmesan cheeses with a host of vivacious vegetables. Yes, vivacious. The taste combination is incredible – something I wouldn’t have thought to bring together in the culinary palate. Okay, minus the diet coke – that’s just my addiction. I am contemplating the frozen yogurt stand just to my left, though the Smoothie King and Jamba Juice next door as calling out to me as well. We’ll see. I’ll get something for the plane ride – it’s summer, right? And I’m on vacation!
A year ago, the thought of eating a single slice of pizza with a basic cheese and tomato dressing sent me into waves of panic and fear. I plotted out ways to remove any offensive item from my plate (meaning most everything created with more than 10 calories). I lied to people about my health. I hid the fact I was in a treatment program again, and I drank more calories through wine and rum than would be healthy for a regularly-nourished person. I was anxious for my first trip back to my parents’ house after my whole eating disordered ordeal. I was scared someone would notice that I was struggling more intensely than ever before, yet embarrassed at my “healthy” size and weight. Basically? I was a wreck.
I have done a lot of living and learning in the past 12 months. I have a successful, stable, empowering and creative job doing something that I love. My artistic expeditions are beginning to pay off, with a recent windfall at a local restaurant that is using my photography and acrylics to cover the walls. I have one of the most incredible girlfriends a person could ever want – someone who makes my heart sing and my soul soar in the wind currents of thrilling new relationships. I am a self-proclaimed food snob, having learned to cook creations that are worthy of such snobbery. Simply put? I am happy. More than that. I am thriving, for the first time in my life.
The sun sprinkles in through the windows above this little terminal-side café. Outside the world continues to move at a frantic pace. Inside? Travelers hurry from point to point, navigating the arduous terrain of airport construction and terminals that remind you when the moving sidewalk is about to end. But in this moment? The world stands still. A point of reflection, a celebration, a proclamation. The restricted, punished life that I forced upon myself for years is truly over. It’s been a journey. It’s been a long and crazy story that continues to unfold before my eyes.
For the first time ever, my life feels more fully mine to live and to succeed in than ever before. I walk around my Nashvillian world saying “I love my life,” except for those stressful moments stuck on I-24 trying to navigate my way home from a long day on campus. Even then, if that’s the most I have to complain about, I’m doing pretty well. I’m free. I’m free to be the person that I’ve always been inside. The person that was masked by anorexia and depression and PTSD. The person that wasn’t allowed to figure herself out because she was too busy being Miss Perfection. I am the same person I’ve always been- just one with a head screwed more solidly on her shoulders and a deeper appreciation for the complexities of life. The delicate balance of mental and physical well being that are necessary for thrivival. That’s my word. I’m not in this to survive – survival isn’t enough for me any more. I want to engage every minute of this life with the full force of a thriving rainforest, rich from a recent deluge and bursting out with energy of every living organism within its realm. That… that is thrivival.
Welcome to the new life. The new energy. The new chapter in this story. But hang on tight folks, because life is moving in high velocity. It’s been stagnant too long – it’s my time to soar.
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