Living with the fear that others can so easily see what you find most repulsive and embarrassing about yourself is, at the minimum, exhausting. Always trying to hide this, make that look smaller, heaving over a toilet bowl in the most desperate attempts to make this insecurity less obvious to everyone around; trying so hard to make yourself less vulnerable, less exposed for the realities that most haunt you.
My God, what does liberation from this look like? What does it feel like? Does it have an after-taste of vomit and stomach acid? Does it smell like hunger breath and feel like a boney rib cage?
I want you to tell me if you don’t feel safe, and you can say it! Just shout it, “I don’t feel safe!”
We stood in the middle of the room facing one another and we touched each part of our body that we most despised.
I love my arms because they help me pick things up. They help me carry and embrace the ones that I love. I am able to pet animals and create because of them. Thank you arms and hands.
I love my tummy because even though it pokes out a little more than I’d like, it works well. Because of it, I am able to enjoy and share delicious food, something that I’m so passionate about. Thank you tummy.
I love my thighs because they carry me from place to place. I am able to ride my bike and roam through a forest with ease. I am able to tiptoe through a creek and feel moss between my toes. Thank you thighs.
It was liturgical. It was kind and gentle. It was empowering. I felt safe.
P.S. These are just thoughts and reflections. I recovered from my eating disorder two years ago. Please do not assume anything from this post. Thank you.