I slipped up last night. It's so humbling and scary to fall right back into the disorder so fast but talking through it and sharing (along with journaling, stretching, tea and trusting & honoring my hunger) helps soften the self-criticism and doubt so I can get right back into the work of recovery. And
here’s the Rumi poem I mention (and mess up, haha - I'm always here to be an example of imperfection).
My Worst Habit
My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I’m with.
If you are not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.
How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.
When water gets caught in habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can’t hope.
The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.
Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back toward you.