Well, it’s
been about ten months since I’ve made a blog post. In the course of that ten
months, my body has been through all but hell and back. To make a long, scary
story short, my body hit rock bottom, and I was hospitalized in January in
order to allow my body an opportunity to stabilize and heal. It’s been four
months since I first entered treatment, and since then, everything in my world
has improved a great deal. I still struggle on many levels in the way I feel
about myself, but my body is healthier now than it ever has been in the past!
A few weeks
ago, I was brainstorming what I might do for my mother for Mother’s Day. While
writing a list of things I could choose from to create for her, I began writing
a letter spontaneously. Interestingly enough, the letter was not addressed to
my mother. The letter I wrote that day was addressed to my own body, and it
caused me to reflect back on a poem I had written in the darkest days of my
disorder. The two pieces of writing are in opposition to one another, yet both
are reflective of intense feelings I have experienced on my journey to find
physical and emotional health.
After
writing the letter, I decided to share both pieces of writing with my parents
as a Mother’s Day surprise. When I shared each piece with my mother and father,
I looked up to find them both in tears. My mother expressed that she loved her
gift; that it showed her a great return on the investment she had made in my
treatment beginning in January. Beginning with the poem I wrote while bound up
in my eating disorder, my writings are included below.
November 22, 2014
Before you put that in your
mouth,
Think about how you’ll feel
Sad, so sad, and full of regret,
A girl no man will steal.
Food’s never done you any good
Yet misery and pain it’s brought
Remember what it is you really
want
The thin body for years you’ve
sought.
You’ll never get there eating that
food
You’ll just fail, and fail again.
If you keep giving in and eating,
Forever you’ll remain broken.
If you’re struggling now to
resist
Take a breath, or better, go and
run.
Starving yourself isn’t all that bad
And your results, no man will
shun.
Keep it up, girl, you’ve got this
down.
Be strong and do not give in.
Embrace the hunger and suck it up;
That’s the only way you’ll ever
win.
How
difficult it is for me to read and reflect on the words I penned several months
ago, that represent the pain I experienced each day in the captivity of a
horrible mental illness. Although openly sharing these things causes me to feel
extremely vulnerable, I trust that I can share them with my tender-hearted
friends, and hope that my words might be appreciated for the transformation they
indicate is coming over me as I embark each day on my healing journey to recovery. Brace
yourself: a very different Hilary is about to present herself throughout the course
of this letter.
Dear body,
I am sorry for disrespecting you in so
many ways, for so many years. I am sorry for starving you, stuffing you, and
forcing you to run freakishly long distances on no fuel. I am sorry for the few
times I desperately stuck my finger down your throat and attempted to purge, in
order to relieve what seemed at the time to be unbearable anxiety. I am sorry
for hating you, hurting you, and hiding you. I am sorry for seeing you as an
object to be used only to gratify others’ lustful desires. You are so much more
than that.
I’ve spent so much time and energy
trying to make you fit a standard you were never created to be. When I finally
managed to squeeze you into a size 0, you were in much worse health than you
were at a size 24. Your frail size 0 frame may have been devoid of body fat,
but was certainly not lacking in pain, discomfort, and bruises. Yet I continued
to push you, thinking that if you could only be a little thinner, a little
faster, and a little stronger, perhaps we would finally be enough.
But we were never enough, were we? Not
even the “105 pounds down” mark was enough. Time passed, your mass continued to
decrease, and I realized I was slowly killing you. Laying down in bed each
night, desperately trying to obtain much needed rest, I thought my heart might
stop, as it very well could have at any time. But I told you time and again
that you were being over-dramatic, and that even if you were to die, at least
it would be in pursuit of a worthy cause.
How wrong I was on both accounts, and
how grateful I am that you made it through all of that! You endured so much,
and I want to dedicate the rest of my life to respecting and cherishing you.
You’re no longer a size 0, but from
here on out, I am choosing to be grateful for that, rather than ashamed of it.
Thank you for falling to a place that allows me a cushion on my bottom to sit
upon. Sitting is so much more comfortable now! Thank you for providing me with
an awesome set of baby-bearing hips, and for allowing my menstrual cycle to return
to go with them. I am confident that both will come in handy in the future.
Thank you for providing me with body-wide insulation, so I won’t need to bundle
up in my winter coat all summer long. Thank you for giving me strong arms –
good for much more than compulsively lifting weights at Planet Fitness at 2:00
in the morning, trying to compensate for the frozen yogurt I had earlier in the
day with friends. No, I’m grateful for your arms because they allow me to serve
others, soothe crying children, and give the best hugs, among other things. And
thank you for giving me killer calves – my most complimented feature. Great for
running, hiking, and looking fabulous in high heels. Don’t you ever marry a
short guy.
But more than any individual feature, I
am grateful for your resilience and full functionality. Thank you for staying
strong and enduring so much abuse. From here on out, I will respect and honor
you. I will provide you with proper nourishment to allow you to function well
and to be active. When you are tired, I will let you rest. I will stop fighting
you, and will learn instead to embrace you.
Well, dear body, I hope you can forgive
me for the cruel treatment I have given you for so many years. The healing you
have been able to accomplish in the past several months is evidence to me that
you can. My hope is that we can leave the past behind us now, and move forward
and relate with one another in a positive and healthy way.
I love you, body, and I’m looking
forward to our future together. We’ve had a rough several years, but we have
all of eternity ahead of us to make up for it, and I know we can do it,
together.
With love and gratitude, Hilary Anne
Growcock
Though I still
struggle on a daily basis to accept the truths I wrote to my body in that
letter that day, I am coming to accept each truth a little more fully, each
day. I am growing, I am changing, I am healing.
I believe that my body and spirit were created with an incredible capacity to
heal, and I am so grateful that I am seeing the evidence of that beautiful
truth each day.
