Just bear with me here:
It snowed about 8 inches last night. The snow was incredibly wet and heavy, so 8 inches of snow compacted down to 4 inches. After the city plows came through and cleared the streets there was quite a bit of snow at the end of the driveway; and unfortunately, the temperature is predicted to drop over the next few days, so I had 2 choices 1. leave it and we’d have an ice rink at the bottom of the driveway or 2. go out and clear it. I decided it would be best to clear it, so I put on all of my winter clothes: my jacket, hat, scarf, snow pants, boots, and gloves, and I headed outside with the shovel.
 
As I walked down the driveway I looked at the amount of snow that needed to be cleared. It didn’t look like it would be that hard. It was a few feet wide and the length of the driveway. That should be no problem, right? Well, I was fooled. It didn’t seem like it should be that hard, but given the density of the snow and it being compacted down, it was extremely challenging.
 
I started on the right side, and made some good headway at the beginning but my arms got tired quickly. I had to shake the shovel a few times with each load, just to get the snow off the shovel because it stuck to the shovel. The snow was so thick that many times I had to ram the shovel several times on one spot just to get it under the snow. I switched from using my right hand to hold the end of the shovel to using my left hand, and then back again. I could feel the strain in my back. After several trials on the right side of the driveway, I decided to switch to the left side of the driveway. In the beginning it was going good, but again there was a spot that was so stubborn. I stopped what I was doing and looked at the section of snow left.  I felt defeated. It didn’t look that big when I was first walking towards it, but now that I was in the thick of it, it seemed to triple in size. The difficulty of the task seemed impossible. I went out into the street and approached the snow from the other side. Yeah it was easier for a few shovelfuls but it wasn’t long before I was stuck and couldn’t get the shovel underneath the compacted snow again.
 
I stopped to catch my breath, put my chin on the handle of the shovel and leaned onto it. My breathing was rapid, my body sweating, I felt too tired to go on. I even let out a loud “urg, someone help me”. The sky was beginning to get darker by the minute and when I looked around, it was just me outside. Nobody was there to help me, I had to do it myself. Nobody was coming to finish it for me. Again, I wanted to “give up” but thought about the ice-skating rink we’d have at the end of the driveway, and then thought I need to finish it because I’m not a quitter and I know it will feel wonderful when it’s done.
 
This went on like this for about an hour. On the last couple shovelfuls, I looked at how far I had come and just the few piles I had left. I was so close. I needed to finish it at that point. There was no going back. And then, I was done. I did it! I looked at the end of the driveway and it was totally cleared. “I did that, I did it myself.” Yes, there were moment of questioning if I could do it or if I wanted to do it, but I pushed on through and didn’t quit. I didn’t give up even when it was hard.
 
This experience with shoveling the wet heavy snow parallels my journey from my eating disorder to my recovery. It was so hard at times. It was unbearable and seemed impossible at times. It was heavy and daunting. I had to attack it from different angles when I felt stuck. I had times that I was so exhausted and overwhelmed that I screamed out to the world, even though there was nobody there to hear it. I wanted to just throw in the towel at times, but then what? Go back to the eating disorder? No way! I decided I was going to give it my all and try with everything that I had to turn my life around. I wanted without a doubt to be free from the suffering, from the self-hatred, from destroying myself and my body.  And now looking back over the past 6 years of recovery, I am so happy I worked that hard and didn’t fall short of full recovery. If I didn’t continue trying as hard as I did, I wouldn’t be where I am today. If I threw up my hands and said it was to uncomfortable I wouldn’t experience the joy I feel today. If I came to believe I couldn’t, then I’m sure I wouldn’t have been able to do it.  I’m so proud to say I did it. I achieved recovery. I put in the hard work and I can reap the benefits now. And, that is what I want for everyone. Recovery: If I can do it, I know you can too.
 
So when things get tough, think about shoveling the snow and the amount of stamina and strength it takes, even when it seems impossible. You can conquer this and live life in recovery. I am here ready to support you and walk alongside you. Reach out today!  I look forward to meeting you! 
With love,
​Shira

The alarm goes off and the music begins to play
I can't figure out what song it is, I only hear a hum 
It's pitch black outside and you want me to get up right now? 
I'm like a sloth, rolling from my left side to my stomach, then my back
My eyes closed, my arms and legs barely moving
I feel like molasses, oozing down the side of the bowl, thick and sticky
Does this ever get easier? 
I doubt it, at least for me it doesn't. 

As the days get shorter and there's less sunlight, I struggle to get going in the morning. October 1st is the day it all falls apart. It seems like clockwork. Does my body or my mind know it's October? It boggles my mind how just a day can change how my body works. I tried to hope this away and scold myself, saying I just need to push myself more, I should be able to control this. And yet, mental illness doesn't work like that. The brain is an organ and organs don't always work well. It's a brain illness; so does that mean it can heal or does it always stay sick. I'd like this to be different but I'm not sure it can be. From October to March it's a challenge. It's hard to admit, nobody wants to say that their brain has a sickness, but I can't pretend that I don't. Since I am learning more each day about my body and mind I celebrate what comes naturally and I learn to adapt to what is difficult. It's not good and it's not bad. It just is and today I am grateful. Thank you for what you are teaching me. 

You could see it in her eyes.  The lifeless, pale, and gaunt face. Her downward smile, her hunched over appearance.  The way she looked at herself in the mirror.  How she tried to fit in, but on the inside how broken and bruised she felt. Her world was dark, hopeless, and suffocating.  She hid under the sheets, hoping she would just disappear.  Or maybe be forgotten.  “I don’t want anyone to save me” “Just let me go” “there’s nothing good about me”. she would often say. 
 
For the past 20 years, every day seemed to present a new battle. A battle of the mind, the body, the soul, and the spirit. Nothing seemed at peace anymore.

In a world tangled in trouble and a body failing to function, the only quiet she could find was when she found the escape with her obsessive thoughts.  She squeezed her head tightly in her hands, desperate for the thoughts to go away, but at the same time, she found comfort in them.  She knew their story, she knew their next move, she knew how she would react in light of the swirling world around her.
 
As she laid down, she felt her stomach, why are you so fat? She asked.  There’s pudge in the middle, I can’t feel my hip bones enough, my thighs spread out like warm cheesecake in August, and her wrists were far to large.  Tomorrow I’ll do better, I promise. She said to herself. 
 
As she lay awake, replaying the nightmare of her childhood, she couldn’t get the images out of her mind.  They plagued her like a swirling tornado ready to touchdown and destroy everything in its path.
 
Everyday she told herself she was meant to suffer and that the only reason she was born was to endure pain. This nightmare became her existence.  She hurt herself because that’s what she knew, she starved herself to numb the pain, she threw up anything she ate to show herself rejection, she binged and purged till her lips turned blue and she couldn’t feel her body.  She desperately wanted to die.
 
One night as she sat in front of the toilet she cried so hard, she shook in fear.  She even scared herself.  The intensity of the pain that night was so brutal.  She told herself how disgusting she was, how pathetic, what a waste she was in this world.  Any success she ever had was a moot point.  It didn’t matter, because look at her life, at what she had become.  Spending her days manipulating her body, running from emotions, and scared.
 
When the light of day returned and she looked out the hospital window, it was as though the sun shone in a whole new way.  She looked down at the street below and asked herself a powerful question.  What if my life was like other normal people, without the obsessions, without the self-destruction, with a purpose and a drive to do good in this world? The questions hit her hard, she had never thought of herself in that way.  Hopeful? Was it even possible? Was she capable of change?
 
It was then she made a decision.  A decision that would change the course of her life. That gave her new meaning and direction. “If I’ve been so successful at destroying myself, at mastering this eating disorder and self-hatred, what if I become so successful at loving myself and creating a life of hope, of joy, of renewal?”
 
That moment was the beginning of a year of deep transformation, determination, and conscious change.  After years of being in and out of treatment facilities, she decided to abandon the traditional status quo, and forge her own way: through a dark past and towards a brighter future.
 
She learned to stop numbing her emotions, instead she learned to sit with uncomfortable feelings and express the hurt, frustration, anger, and anxiety.
 
She learned to stop hating herself, instead she learned to love herself for who she was, for the story she lived through, and for the new woman that would emerge.
 
She stopped controlling her body size, the food she ingested, and associating good and bad with the meals she ate.
 
She accepted her body for the strength it provided and learned to nourish herself fully.
 
She made peace with the hurt she experienced as a child and learned that nobody is perfect, that everyone has their own past and demons, and we all try to do our best.
 
It has been almost 6 years since she looked out that window, it was as if she opened the window to her true soul and potential that day and let her spirit flourish.  She has become a light in the world for others, she has taught others to find their own recovery, and she has built a life she is proud to call her own. 

This woman is me.  And I am so grateful to be standing here today, healthy, happy, free, and discovering a potential I never knew.