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While some families are roasting chestnuts over an open fire and Decking the Halls, you might be wanting to book at ticket to Bali and not come back until the three wise men have done their thing, and the baby Jesus is done resting in his manger.

All joking aside, going home when you are in Recovery can SUCK!

Believe me, I remember that feeling in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been through every stage of it. Seing everbody when you don’t look like the Crypt Keeper anymore.  That identity being stripped, and the fear of anybody saying the word FAT. The thickness in the air as you put anything edible in your mouth followed by the suspicious glares as they wait for you to digest it.

Honestly though, looking back I don’t blame them. I had become the cell gone crazy in the pool that was my DNA.

My eating disorders tore up my life and I am here to tell you it doesn’t have to tear up yours. I put my family through hell and back. I took them to a level of pain that no human being should ever have to feel.

I was the one running water in the bathroom puking my guts up while they pretended not to hear. I was the one eating a bowl of lettuce alone in a corner while they all sat at the table shaking their heads. I was the barely alive girl who as they hugged me goodbye prayed the next time they saw me wouldn’t be in a grave.

I was their grandaughter, their sister, their niece and their cousin. I was blood gone bad. The cell that had gone crazy in a pool of once functional DNA.

I became a stranger to them, and they all slowly detatched themselve to avoid the pain. They faded away, and they clung to the memory of a little girl with curls in her hair and a skip in her step. I hope that they all died with those images and not of a very sick and sad girl whose identity was based on a number on a scale.                                                                                                                      

I burned a lot of bridges and some of them cannot be repaired.

My grandparents are all dead. Plain and simple. I will never ever ever be able to spend any kind of holiday with them ever again.

I wish they could see me now. I wish they could see that I am capable of spending a day with them where they don’t have to agonizinlgy watch me slowly kill myself with every uneaten plate of food, box of laxatives, and my head down the toilet.

So shoulda, woulda, coulda….lets talk about now. I m here to tell all of you who still have your families that it’s possible to co-exhist and not come out battered and bruised, or worse yet back to where you used to be.

So how in the world can you have a good  Holiday this year when everybody is walking on egg shells around you and handling you like a fragile piece of glass.

It’s possible, but you have to be Strong. You still have a chance to enjoy your family, and make as many great memories as you can.

You can Dazzle everybody, and blow them away, and next up I’m gonna give you some tips on how to Survive in this thing we call life, especially when all those other people are in it with you. To be continued……..


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