If I had a nickel — no, a penny — for every time I woke up and said, “Today, I get control of my eating disorder. Today, I can do this!” I would have enough money that there would be no 99% or 1%. We would all be sitting poolside sipping the drink of your choice without a monetary care in the world.
Okay. That might be a slight exaggeration. But not much of one. Because my eating disorder is my version of “Groundhog Day.” It’s my own private hell where every day I wake up with good intentions and go to bed feeling like shit because I once again couldn’t get my act together. So why is this Day One any different?
Maybe it isn’t. Maybe I’ll fail again. Or maybe, just maybe, this time I can be kind enough to myself to say, “Self, you aren’t perfect, and stop trying to be. Just do your best and don’t let ED tell you that you’re not worth the fight. You are worth the effort.”