There are days when I feel grateful that anorexia entered my life.
There are days when I do not like to admit how much darkness, pain and despair it brought.
There are days when I think about it as a gift, a chance that I was given. It only depends on me whether I take it or not. It can only be me who makes this choice… Do I want to stay in my internal, dark box or do I want to use all the strength I have to get out, to feel, to experience all shades of my emotions, to truly live?
Today is a day when I see hope. Today is a day when I see a chance. My chance to connect with this little, abandoned girl inside me. A chance to meet myself again. A chance to allow myself to be curious, to discover, to explore. Today is my birthday and an opportunity to try something new! Today is full of bright colours!
My husband Ollie and I are on our way to join a pottery experience! I would never expect to be interested in this sort of activity, but I must admit that I am actually more than interested. I am super excited! I feel like a little child who is ready for the biggest adventure of its life! I feel like I want to jump, dance, shout, and bounce. I cannot wait! :)
The intensity of my emotions is new, different and powerful. It moves through my whole body, it hugs me from inside. If living a full life feels this way I want more! I am ready to take it. I am ready for the whole rainbow.
We arrive a few minutes early. I jump out of the car and head straight to the building.
From outside it looks like a little bit of magic in the middle of a street full of grey houses. The entrance is bright and colourful which fills my heart with warmth and joy. Little bunches of flowers look at me from the quirky pots. Two old fashioned bikes lean against the wall and add character to the whole scenery. Unexpectedly I feel like I am being transferred to a happier place. It is pink, calm and safe. I pause to notice my experience. I want to remember this sensation. I smile to myself and Ollie.
I press a handle and go inside through a blue, twisted door. I look around. I see pieces of art. I am surrounded by mugs, plates, trays, bowls and even more colours! More joy! More fun! I almost shake from the excitement. It is intense, overwhelming. I smile again. I am touched. Not long ago smiling was not an option and the only colour I saw was black. Baby steps through my recovery led me to a new place inside me. The place where I see more, I feel more, I notice more and I breathe it all. My connection. My hope. It takes everything I have to hold onto that hope, to remember it when the world goes dark again…
After introductions and explanations of the activity I sit down ready to make a bowl. I place my hands on clay. Surprisingly the texture is smooth and silky. I think I expected something different, more solid. I like the smoothness. I do my best to pay attention to the teacher’s voice and follow the instructions, but I realise that my mind starts to wander. I realise that I don’t listen to the teacher anymore. I switch to using my own imagination. I go through a process of creating something out of a piece of what looks like mud. It is like a journey. It feels like my journey. A journey through life. A journey through recovery. I observe, I touch, I wonder, I explore, I discover. I need to go slow, pay attention, and put in some effort to form a shape. I am in my world, I am an architect, I create…
Slowly I come back to reality. I look at my piece of art. It is wonky and misshapen. It cannot compete with my husband’s work which looks more like a bowl, but I love it. It is not perfect and it doesn't have to be. It is mine. It is enough. Every day I do my best to remember that similar to my bowl I do not have to be perfect. I am me and I am enough.