My friend Charlotte had posted about how far her daughter had come in her fight against anorexia over the past year.  In an email to me, she asked me to post this on my blog:

This time last year (3rd November, 2009), my daughter's anorexia had changed my warm, funny bright loving daughter into a cobra with PMS, my other daughter was crying hysterically, my husband was as angry as a hungry grizzly and I have never felt so hopeless and helpless in the whole of my life. So, taking courage in both hands and laying aside my uptight English reserve, I posted on the ATDT forum asking for help.


And through them, I found Carrie.

A year on, a lot has changed. My warm, funny, bright, loving daughter is back. My other daughter only cries when she gets moisturiser in her eyes. My husband is back to his habitual horizontal position and I feel empowered and useful.

And, I still have Carrie.

We talked about how far we have come in a year and for both us, looking back, has been cathartic and hopeful.
 
I feel like I've known Charlotte for so much longer than a year.  She has truly become a dear friend.
 
And yet, looking back over this past year, I realize how far I've come.  I've actually embraced the concept of recovery, not just to get my parents off my back or to make my therapist happy.  There are still parts of recovery I hate, but I'm starting to really accept them.  I do still miss the eating disorder at times, but I also have other times when it's not at the forefront of my mind.
 
If you would have asked me last year what I would be doing in November 2010, I wouldn't have told you that I would be trying to buy a condo and working full-time as a freelance writer.  That I would actually be showing signs of success in my career.  To be honest, back then I wasn't really thinking of the future.  The future consisted of trying to weasel out of the next meal or next snack.  It consisted of dreaming and hoping and wishing.  Yeah, it would be nice to kick this ED to the curb, but it would also be nice if pigs would fly and my coffee cup magically refilled itself.  That didn't mean it was going to happen anytime soon.
 
My life isn't what I anticipated it would be before I got ill.  I didn't expect to be still living with my parents at age 30.  I didn't expect to have more health problems than I care to count and know that padded rooms on psych wards actually exist.
 
Yet time passes and things get better.  Until I got into this conversation with Charlotte, I didn't realize just how much progress I have made.  I am, by no means, totally recovered.  I still struggle with ED thoughts, but I find it getting so much easier to keep the behaviors in check.  Thinking of a life beyond the ED isn't just a pipe dream anymore.