Clearly, I am suffering from an acute case of writer’s block. I could not think of anything to write about this week that could be elaborated upon to create a post. Therefore, I have decided to write a few mini-posts based upon some photos I have recently taken.
This is a sign I colored (yes, like a 6-year-old, I like to color) to hang up at my desk. All too often, I am paralyzed at the thought of making a mistake–letting someone see a chink in the armor of perfection that I wear every day. I always tell people that making mistakes is the best way to learn; that mistakes are opportunities in disguise. Mistakes are better teachers than perfection ever could be. Example: Do you know why the cleaning product Formula 409 has such a boring name? It is because it took the developers 409 tries to get the product they wanted. What if they had given up after the first, second, two-hundredth or three-hundred-sixty-eighth mistake? The same goes for your recovery. Just because a mistake (although I hate using the word “mistake” in relation to recovery as Thom Rutledge always says, “There is no perfect recovery, and you are not the exception.”) in recovery, does not mean you have to return to ED’s ways. Perceived “mistakes” in recovery are proof that you are trying to live a healthier, happier, ED-free life.
This is a photo I took of my newest nephew Andrew. Andrew was born five weeks early, and spent the first month of his life in the NICU; he has since moved home and has continued thriving. I absolutely love this little fighter. He has had to go through a lot in his young life: c-pap machines, feeding tubes, an IV in his head because his arm veins were too small to support a needle, light therapy for his jaundice, cauterizing of his belly button because his cord fell off too soon, and who knows what else. I spent many hours sitting with him and his mother at his NICU bedside waiting and praying for him to come home. Andrew is the sweetest, cuddliest, most affectionate baby I have ever met. He reminds me daily that life is immeasurably precious and fragile. In his face I see the wonders of God, life and the love of his parents. I am so blessed to have this sweet baby in my life. He gives me courage to continue fighting for recovery
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.
I took this picture at Krohn Conservatory last weekend during their Butterflies of Morocco event. It is my absolute strongest dearest friend attempting to catch a butterfly (who knew those little buggers would be so hard to catch). The more I thought about butterflies, their beauty and also their fragility, the more I thought of them in terms of recovery. I feel like this quote explains what I think, “Butterflies can’t see their wings. They can’t see how truly beautiful they are, but everyone else can. People are like that as well.” Because of ED, we can no longer see our beautiful lives, bodies and minds for what they are. Other people can see these qualities in us, however, so they DO exist. Through recovery we can rediscover ourselves, our gifts, our strengths, our lives and our genuine selves. I, for one, cannot wait.