Transitioning II

I feel like I've done this before. Oh, yep. I have. Back in December. So how am I going to do it different, do it better, do it in a way that offers me the most opportunities for success?

I think I got my answer today when I scaled a swinging wooden pole and traversed a hanging beam. Picture a crucifix. Minus the two criminals hanging on either side.

What did I learn? When faced with a challenge, I must...

1.) Trust my support team. They won't let me splat. They'll tell me the truth. They'll see obstacles long before I do. I need to listen to them and ask for help.

2.) Let go of the eating disorder. It might be familiar. It might be the closest thing to grasp for and the easiest thing to cling to, but in the end, I've got to let go or I'll hang myself.

3.) Stay on my feet. If I focus on standing on my feet, I won't have enough energy left to worry about falling. And if I do fall, don't reach for the eating disorder. Trust my support team.

4.) I don't have to feel confident to accomplish my goal, I just have to DO IT. While I might think everyone is watching the fat girl trying to fake her way through the world, the truth is everyone is really just watching a capable, strong woman climb her way out, up, over and around her biggest obstacle: her own doubt. If I look around for approval, I will never see it because that can only come from myself. But if I stop to really look around, appreciate the moment, live in the now and not the then or when, I will see smiles of encouragement, not sneers of judgement.

In less than two weeks, I'll finish the partial hospitalization program. I'll have two weeks of intense outpatient appointments and then I should be released back to work. Yesterday, my nutritionist tweaked my meal plan after a weekend of late evening difficulties. I've reconnected with an old friend, someone who played a pivotal role in my teens and early twenties. And I also have to say good-bye this week to two amazing women who have been with me throughout this recovery process. I'm sad. I'm glad. I'm scared. But most importantly, I'm strong enough to actually identify and accept those things. Sad. Glad. Scared. That puts me, in my estimation, nearly into the normal category. After all, who wouldn't feel those things in the same situation? Probably just the people who aren't really working on recovery, healing or discovery.

So I'm likely to have a melt down or two the next few weeks. It's how I operate. The difference now is that I know I'm at a higher risk for a freak out. I see the circumstances that have created drawn out, painful cycles of indifference, paralysis and retreat.

As long as I have an answer to or am working on finding an answer to "the biggest question of them all", I'll be okay. Some times, most times, once I get around to asking the question, the answer becomes moot. Some times, most times, I'm simply most afraid of figuring out that inevitable, perplexing, soul-searching, life-changing question that, once screamed, whispered, wailed or written, sets me free from it all. What am I afraid of?