I'm on the brink of something different as I enter into 27 - the beginning of my 28th year. Calmer. More myself. More raw and loud and flesh and giddy and happy and even sad and shame and lonely.
With the entrance of each new year comes the reflection of the moments that preceded it. 26 was a year of change. It was the year I learned for myself that I am my only savior. It was the year I took steps towards recovery. Big ones. At 26 I realized that recovery was my choice, my burden alone. That no one was going to do it for me, really, even if they wanted to. I learned there is no "sick enough" or "ready." That recovery is no more than a series of choices. So many choices. Every meal, snack, binge, conversation with my mind and my body.