I bought eleven notebooks and a pack of colored pencils – Crayola, 94 cents. I picked up a copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, extremely non-literary, thrilling fluff. I have a packet of poetry from a best friend sitting on my desk, unopened.
I just want to be crazy and me and not the girl I’ve been. I want to savor. I want to believe in six impossible things before breakfast. I want to dream of cold castles and lush flying carpets, rose petals stinging my cheeks with freezing dew, the smell of bleached grass crushing underfoot.
I’m giving up on this war. The binging. The vomiting. The fasting. The dieting. The restricting. The overexercising. I’m done. I’ll doodle white flags in the margins of my notebooks.
When I eat, I will enjoy my food. I will roll my strawberry over my tongue, every taste bud sizzling, a burst of juice staining my lips pink, the tiny seeds and hairs prickling the roof of my mouth. I refuse to be ashamed of eating. I refuse to complain that I don’t deserve food because I’m fat. I will delight in food.
And then I will move on to the next treat. Writing. Coloring. Books. Poetry.
That’s my mission for today. To taste my whole life, not just what’s on my plate.
Rebekah Burcham struggled with bulimia nervosa
for almost six years before she fully embraced recovery.
Read her recovery journal here.