Piece by Piece

Three years ago today, I took my first steps into a new life; a life in recovery.  Soon, Bean will take her first steps.  Just yesterday I was helping my little girl walk across our yard.  Not too long from now she will not need my hands to help her walk; she will be able to walk on her own.  She may initially be scared.  She will fall, she will get a few bumps and bruises along the way, and she may very well cry, but she will no doubt get back up and keep at it.  That sounds like a metaphor for life in general, and I can vouch that those exact things have happened to me over the past three years. Of course I could tell you what I was wearing as I stepped off of the plane into RDU airport, and damn I was a mix of emotions.  I was so excited to see Stefan again, and damn I was terrified.  What if he didn't like how I looked? What if I relapsed? What if I wasn't strong enough to make it?  The first question shouldn't even be a question becaus...

As I laid my head down on my pillow last night, I knew that I made it another day without anyone asking me what I ate.  To my eating disorder brain this is amazing.  I didn't have to tell anyone that I didn't eat, that I skipped most of my needed intake for the day.  The Tracy I've been slowly losing shouted from the depths of my body that something was wrong.  I closed my eyes and listened to the white noise of our air purifier, felt the softness of my sheets, and the rapid beating of my heart.  Another anxiety attack?  No, this was a different kind of racing, it was the racing I have felt before when my heart was doing too much work.  I literally thought, I could be having a heart attack.  I tossed and turned 90% of the night and when I did sleep, I dreamt of all the things I do wrong...all the imperfections I have; the imperfect person I am. For weeks now I have been walking a slippery slope in recovery.  My anxiety has increased, my att...