good enough never is.

the title of this particular blogpost came from my ap senior english teacher. it was the first day of class and she was explaining the syllabus and the expectations she held for us during that year. she explained that she was sick of receiving papers that in her opinion "were half-assed" -- when you sit back in your chair, throw your hands up and say, "good enough" to her, that sounded like giving up. good enough never is. little did she know, this phrase would be what launched me into my deepest, darkest moments.

i had always had self-confidence issues. whether it was comparing my dancing to other girls i took ballet with, over-studying for my pre-calculus test or working two different jobs when i was in high school - it never seemed good enough. i never seemed good enough. i was constantly try to fill shoes that were too big for me. when i got to college, it got even worse. i was flown into an entirely new, exciting world where the stakes were even higher. it was all too much for me to handle and in an effort to feel stronger, i started restricting my eating habits. it started off small; skipping a meal here or there. but then it got bigger; going days without eating. then it became full out obsession; food was everything i talked about, thought about and cared about: calories, fat intake, workout schedules, protein absorption, diet pills, whatever i could get my hands on.

after multiple hospital stays, three stomach ulcers, countless therapy sessions and calorie plans, here i am, five years later and my docket reads: anorexia nervosa, recovered; bulimia nervosa, recovered.

but what does the even really mean? i'm still me, a mess of insecurities, compulsions and fears. i still count every single calorie in my head and i still know how long it will take me to burn off those calories. i still criticize myself every time i buy a pair or jeans or anytime i feel like i've eaten "just a little too much". there's the constant fear that i'll suddenly lose my way, slip up and give up everything again. going back to anorexia would feel like going home again and i'd be lying if there wasn't a huge part of me that is addicted to the way it makes me feel.

but the absolute truth? the only thing that's keeping me hanging on? the ability to live. anorexia steals that from you in an almost undetectable way -- it's the ultimate sacrifice, the ultimate irony in life; giving up your rights and your will to live for a feeling that has never made you feel so alive. you're convinced that you're strong and in control, when really, you're bound by the cage, because if you move too many steps in the wrong direction, you're the one who's lost control.

so for me, it is a battle everyday but it's one i am willing to fight.
because really, living in a hospital bed, hooked up to IVs and feeding tubes,
for me, that's no way to live.
and neither is living in a cage.