What If I Honestly Loved Her?
One of my favorite songs begins with a lyric about believing love was only ash on a rug. The lyrics go on to describe the castles we build around ourselves to protect and preserve what we fear is all we have left – all we will ever have – and how finding that one person who brings you the right kind of love can tear down those cold castle walls. How love can help you see hope.
It made me wonder about the kind of vulnerability that feels safe in that love. How am I defining that love? Do I believe that there is someone who could bring that out in me? And could that “one person” be me?
Living nearly 90% of my life in and out of an eating disorder left me with what felt like very few opportunities to explore these questions. I lived with blurry moments of self-love and brief moments of seeing myself from a view that wasn’t dictated by my eating disorder. I grab onto these moments and try to see each blurry moment in high definition. I try to take the brief moments of loving me for me and hold on until I fully and deeply believe it. I find myself taking time with these moments. Learning about them, evaluating them, exploring the aspect I want to see blossom from the cold edges of my eating disorder. Moments that bring Jessica back to life. In those moments, I can honestly say I loved her (and by “her,” I mean “me”).
Finding myself and loving myself was a road I never thought I could travel when I was in the grasp of my eating disorder.
It is a road of hills and mountains… and steady, easy plains. This journey of *finally* discovering who I am after 35 years of being controlled by an eating disorder has been magically and beautifully enlightening. It’s been challenging and fulfilling. Finally asking myself, “What would it be like if I loved her?” I wonder how I would describe Jessica with all the possible love in the world? What if those blurry and brief moments were always seen with bold clarity?
I could honestly say that I love her (again, ME!).
I can say that I love EVERYTHING about her. I love the deep roar that comes from within as she sings a song so deafening and soothing. The kind of roar that emanates from her chest, reverberates up and down her spine, fills her heart with warmth, and then gives her a hug in a way that makes her so deeply feel this world. A roar that makes all the fear of what she could feel seem less intimidating. I love how she takes that roar and makes it soar into the sky with tenderness. I love the light that comes from her eyes when she takes her first breath of a song and sings with all she is. She takes each note and approaches it with intention and grace. She forgives herself in the ebb and flow of the process. She creates and rearranges to her liking. She has always used music to show her love for the world, and now she uses her song to show the world her love for herself. And she shines.
Oh, how I love her mind! I love how she can retreat into thought, reserve that space for whatever the moment might bring, and flood the day with a wealth of insight, nerve, laughter, music, knowledge, random creativity and curiosity, her quick wit, and desire for knowledge. Have I mentioned how I love her love of language? When she takes to words on a page and pours her soul into telling her story, those are moments when she feels her growth, her restoration, her brilliance. I love her for the light she shines – a light I wish I had seen more. A light I would have seen more if I had given her more attention than I allowed my eating disorder to have. I take these moments of restoration and enlightenment to apologize to her. I make peace with her.
I love how her light shines on each note and thought. How, if you looked at her from a certain angle, you could catch a bit of that light radiating through the crevices of wounds no one has seen before, unsure if the light was trying to get in or get out – and wishing it was both. I see the most golden parts of her creating the path for healing.
I see how I deserved to be seen and heard more. In these moments when I now have more clarity to see and love so many aspects of myself, I find myself excited to discover so much more.
I know I have only barely begun to scratch the surface of this discovery. I take each step in the recovery process to excavate those parts of me that were buried under the rubble of my battle with my eating disorder. I am my own archeologist.
There are days that are harder than others, and days that are like rowing the calmest waters. I have to acknowledge that this battle isn’t all wins. However, those days that feel like losses are no longer lessons in shame, they are lessons in betterment. I can love myself for my mistakes, for my missteps. I can take the lesson and evaluate it so I can adjust in all the ways necessary to make the next step a win. It can take time and multiple attempts, but I know I can get there. Giving up is no longer an option I allow myself. I want to find and live in self-love and acceptance. As with any excavation, it takes hard work. But this…. This is my treasure hunt. I am treasure. I am worthy of love, from myself and others. I am human and fallible. I am human and magnificent, as are you.
These are the moments of recovery and discovery that make me fall in love with a very special person – myself.
