Sitting at a brewery in Evergreen, Colorado.
I’ve got my dog with me after an unexpectedly lost 10-mile hike – and we’re recovering here: me with a beer, and Juno with a questionable water bowl that has other dog hair floating in it. (Sucks to be a dog sometimes.)
Anyway, I write pretty frequently about love in recovery. Mostly, because I suck at it, so I write to make sense of what I do that always ends in heartache.
That being said, let’s cut to the chase: it’s been a rough weekend.
Between Hurricane Irma potentially wiping out my grandparents home in Sanibel Island, and my aunt and uncles home in Naples – there’s stress in my family.
Selfishly, my childhood summers are wrapped up in Sanibel. I spent a month or two there every single year from 9 months – 24 years, and the reality of that whole island being destroyed – as I write this – is hard to grasp.
The people who have been there forever – their homes. The ice cream shop “Pinocchios,” the Bubble Room restaurant, our bike paths, the lighthouse and the cafe near it with the same waitresses for the past 20 years.
I was never more content than in Florida as a teen – it became an expected concept – to have it. I brought my best friends there, my boyfriend.
The possibility of not having it reminds me how fleeting things can be: how you can have this sense of security and it can be taken from you in an instant. The whole construct of security, which humans crave, reshaped in a storm.
Don’t get me wrong: others have it way worse. I know that. I’m thinking of them. But, that’s not my reality at this moment. And my emotions are still valid.
I’m not attached to the things of this island – I’m attached to memories. In truth, I could give up all my stuff, my whole apartment today if we all became nudists and moved into log cabins – with just a twinge of resentment before utter release.
I don’t carry “things” with me, except memories. I don’t move with much. I just start over.
Maybe that’s in part due to my eating disorder – eating disorders have a way of disassociating you, and so I don’t know that I ever really formed an attachment to things because I was always self-absorbed and preoccupied with being sick.
But, I carry memories because they are associated with people. And I carry people around with me everywhere I go – too many to count.
Which leads me to this post.
Continue reading “A Reminder: Relationships Will Not Cure Your Eating Disorder”