I think everyone has little things they do to motivate themselves in recovery. For me, I like to look at travel websites and plan hypothetical trips (Galapagos Islands, anyone?). I also like looking at crafty websites (for when I have more money because it's not going to The Therapy Fund). My newest recovery "game" has been looking at condos and townhomes in my new area. It began as a way to keep myself amused and procrastinate on writing projects. I was curious to see what was out there, and I started looking.

What was different was that I kept looking.

My two favorite "go-to" sites are Trulia and Realtor. Yes, these are places for some serious granite countertop envy, but I'm also realistic enough to know that I can't afford most place with granite. I want a place that has 2 bedrooms (so I can set up an office and guest room), and at least 1.5 baths, and although I like the idea of a yard, my shifts at the bakery leave me far too tired to even comprehend yardwork. So condo/townhouse it is.

I've only ever rented, and so moving into my own place is a pretty big step. I've bailed on more apartments than I care to recount--upwards of four different places--due to the eating disorder, and I'm not keen on those freneting stuffing of crap into boxes while being so weak I can barely stand. Between moving out of my DC area apartment and back to Michigan last June, and then moving from Michigan to Virginia last December, I'm damn tired of moving. And I can't bail on a condo the way I can an apartment.

Before, I might have foolishly gone ahead with getting my own place with the idea that a mortgage would "encourage" me to only dabble in the eating disorder a little bit. I was still living under the delusion that I could control the anorexia, and that I could both live the life I wanted and stay anorexic. It took almost a decade to rid myself of that little delusion. Certainly, having this responsibility will be a motivator for recovery, but I'm not going to go depending on it. My recovery needs to stand on its own two feet (supported by two rather massive thighs). If a mortgage helps, all the better.

I'm still many, many steps away from getting a place of my own. For one, I have to step up to the plate and get better at feeding myself. For another, I have to try and figure out how to get a mortgage. I have a modest down payment saved up (part of it was money my grandparents left me), so that's not the problem. The problem is that at least half of my income is from freelance writing, and banks aren't very keen on loaning money to self-employed people. One saving grace is my bakery job- it's full time with benefits, so although the pay otherwise sucks, it provides a level of stability that will make me a more appealing candidate. I'm starting to get my questions about mortgages together so that I can make an appointment with the lady at the bank in the next few weeks and start getting my finances in order. Outside of recovery stuff, that's the first step.

Then there comes the process of looking for and finding a place. I know I need to be ready to make the leap when I first start looking because a) I've watched enough HGTV and b) that's just how my life works. My parents' real estate agent will hopefully work with me, and she's awesome, though I do have to formally ask.

I keep coming back to this question: am I ready for this next step? Of course, you never know until the rubber hits the road, but I want to have a decent idea of what I'm getting into. The obvious place to start is taking more responsibility for my eating, rather than passing it (and the accompanying anxiety) to my mom. I need to know I will be able to maintain a strong enough recovery that I won't go screwing up this aspect of my life the way I've botched everything else in these past 10 years. I don't want to have to go to another boss and say, "Um, I don't know if you've noticed, but I've, um, kinda, um, lost a lot of weight lately." And I can expect a bank would be even less understanding than some of my nightmare scenarios. My patented Puppy Dog Eyes may work wonders with Pam from the apartment complex, but I doubt Fannie and Freddie will be so easily swayed. I need to know I'm ready, no doubts, no questions, no hesitation.

So looking at houses has been an interesting motivation for me to keep moving forward in recovery. I want to pick out paint colors. I want to think about decorating beyond posters and tape. I want my own place, where I can get some much-prized alone time. I want to be a grown-up. And I know that to do all these things, I can't have anorexia following me around. When I am actively in my eating disorder, none of these things matter, and I eventually lose all capacity to do them anyway. I want a future without my eating disorder. I want to be "Carrie the Writer" and "Carrie the Home Owner" and (heaven help me!) "Carrie the Bakery Chick." Not "Carrie the Once and Future Anorexic." A house isn't going to magically make my eating disorder go away, and I know my struggles are far from over. All of this is true. But the fact that I'm starting to seriously contemplate this next step and leaving my eating disorder further behind.