Journal Entry: Paris and Bowling Balls

Photo by Anathea

I’m afraid of recovering from bulimia.

I’m terrified of being healthy of mind, of heart, of soul, as well as of body. I’m terrified of being happy. My life would explode in new, uncomfortable ways. Old ruts wouldn’t serve, I’d have to seek out fresh friends, academic challenges, sports, adventures. I’d probably go to Paris. I’d probably publish a novel. My passions would suddenly morph into bowling balls and my dreams into flaming torches – real live things I’d have to juggle. 

And what if I failed that? 

It’s not so bad hiding in my room and failing at being nobody. But what if I unveil my potential to the world, sparkling and singing and swirling, what if I show people everything beautiful about me, and I’m still not good enough?

That kind of failure would actually hurt. 

Sincerely,

Rebekah

Rebekah Burcham struggled with bulimia nervosa

for almost six years before she fully embraced recovery.

Read her recovery journal here.

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