It’s odd that we have to grieve the loss of lousy things, but no one promised life was logical. Recovery is better than staying sick, and grieving the loss of something you’re desperate to let go of seems a small price to pay.
Letting go of my eating disorder means grieving. It’s a loss. I’m losing my coping mechanism and my support system. I’m cutting out a piece of me, and that’s a wrench, despite it being the right choice.
The excision will leave a hole, and I need to fill it. Whatever I choose has to feel more important than the eating disorder, a solid challenge.
The eating disorder was my world, it’s lies and promises of perfection my everything. That’s hard for crochet to live up to.
(November 5, 2017. Revised July 2021.)