A Good Morning

Well, it’s 8 am and I’ve already been up for an hour. Actually, I’ve been up longer than that, I just didn’t choose to fully be that thing known as “awake” until 7.

I haven’t even had coffee yet, but it’s already been a good morning. Because I’ve been doing things that remind me that I’m me. Recovery sort of things. Writing HEALTHY blog posts on my other blog, speaking out against something I think is wrong and speaking up for a charity I know is awesome. Adding pics to my pinterest pages, especially the recovery-based one. Going through and just reading ED recovery quotes.

I haven’t purged yet today. I mean, I also haven’t eaten, but hey, it’s a start. I feel awake and conscious, not out of it like I normally feel. I can actually think some semblance of straight. It’s good.

Yet I know that good as this morning’s been, because I’m not at program yet, the rest of the day is honestly a toss up… and will probably head down hill. Because as much as I’m desperately wanting to start recovery, I’m afraid to. I’m afraid to start recovery until I have the nice, safe structure of a program. Until I have the legitimacy of a program. Because I’m afraid that if I get “too better” before then, I”ll just get kicked out of the program. I’ll get looked at and told “oh, you’re doing fine. You don’t need us. Go away.”

But I think that’s just the fear of what happens with my parents coming up. Unless I look obviously, undeniably bad to them, unless I’m unquestionably in need, then I don’t get to ask for things. Not the things that I need, really. I can ask for trivial things, but if it’s something heavy, something serious, then there better be justification for it. Justification according to their standards, not mine. I’m used to not getting anything unless I’m damn near dying for it.

Deep breath. I have to remember that just because that’s how my parents work, that’s not how the rest of the world works. I don’t know. At the very least, at least I’ve had a good morning.

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