I can still recall how much it mattered and defined me, the food and amount of food I don't put into my body. I can still recall how I thought it was good to be constantly critical of my own body and that it made sense to keep thinking of what to fix and make better/improve. The times in recovery when I was hooked up to IV drops and self-injecting hormones into my body. The times when I was not able to be fully present with my friends, family, lovers. The times when I would push my workouts to "just ten more laps", or "thirty more minutes" and feeling so damn proud for masking the hunger with pain. The times when I would take the stairs and run up and down during lunchtime. There were the toilet cleaners who hung out there and knew me by name. The times in recovery when people who previously have met me couldn't recognise me now because I looked so different. It devastated me to the point of hating myself and relapsing. Until I finally got it. Until I finally understood. I will never forget the time my father found me unconscious next to the toilet bowl after trying to purge what I had binge ate to stymie the cavernous hunger that was swallowing me whole when I first started to work on my recovery. I will never forget the time my mother saw me in the airport to pick me up when I returned from Paris. I will never forget the promise I made to myself to remind myself again and again should I fall, that I am already a whole and eternal being.
There is nothing to fix. Nothing to change. I am imperfectly perfect. 🕊 If you would like to go on a sacred journey of disordered eating recovery without relapsing and spending years in therapy, you can book in a free Share & Heal Session with me after watching this free training here. 💗 Limited spots because it is powerfully centred upon 1:1 sessions and unconditional faith + love 🤍💫 Click through here or link in bio 😌🍃👇🏻 https://go.whenstillwatersspeak.com/ .·. Warmest Love, LiYing 💗