I would like to tell you that I have no clue what you’re saying.

But I do.

I would like to stay “you’ll be fine honey. Just stop.”

But I know better.

I would like to tell you that this is a passing phase and that someday you’ll look back and laugh at your worst times.

I won’t.

The limbo you describe defined my existence for four decades. Cost me all my teeth. Um, they don’t grow back. Nor can I unfeel the hundreds of hours of dental work. The heart attack my eating disorders caused.

This is what society does to us. At a very important level we have accepted the dance card, the lie that thin will give us the brass ring.



Four decades.

I will tell you that healing exists. Is available. Not one minute too late, nor one minute too soon, should you choose. There is nothing anyone else can say or do.

At some point I did make fun of my worst moments. That was the beginning of the end of my eating disorders, the chewing and spitting, the throwing up, the terror connected to gaining an ounce, a pound.

Four decades. That was the price I paid. Some of us don’t make it at all. All I know is that I hear you. No counselor, no program, no detox can do it for you. Period. There is an entire industry created to feed off our eating disorders, if you will. Making money off our collective misery.

Capitalism. Yay.

I agree with Ellie. Your truth is beautiful.

Yet, life holds a space for you.

When you are ready, and only when you are ready, you will fill it.

Or not.

Either way, Twyla, it is your dance.

For what it’s worth I hear you.

Written by

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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