I ate this.
All of it.
In less than twenty minutes.
I kept this.
I ate all my meals the whole day.
I did not run or swim or bike or even do a single pushup.
I love this.
I love this because of all the things beyond the cupcake: pushing through anxiety and fear, self-care, kindness, courage.
I am grateful for this cupcake and this therapy hour because coming up with the idea, going to a particular place for it, and bringing it with candles and matches and another cupcake to share, is me.
My husband says one of his favorite things about me is the bottle of champagne I always keep in our refrigerator. And it’s not because it never gets opened. Those bottles get opened frequently and I replace them immediately because I believe in endless reasons to celebrate in this life and I absolutely love the spontaneity of being able to celebrate at a moments notice with fun things to do so on hand.
Honestly, sometimes we celebrate making it through a day. Other times it’s the beginning or end of a chapter, a raise, even a new record for the number of times I had to change dirty diapers in an hour.
It’s one of my husband’s favorite things about me and it’s something I love about myself.
I am still in a rough spot with self-esteem and confidence so being cognizant of this realization that I actually came up with something the eating disorder took away from me and brought it back, hopefully, to stay, is a huge triumph.
Last year I had an undeniably difficult time getting through the next 5 months because every immediate family member and many close relatives and friends have birthdays to celebrate. It was hard because I knew I wasn’t participating in the way I would have liked to. I know others were disappointed I didn’t have a signature party dress on and bottle of wine in hand, instigating the fun. I felt terrible. But I was more concerned about not taking in any extra calories and sometimes, more concerned about just getting to the end of the day alive.
I want to celebrate all the little things and be present for them. This cupcake represents the beginning of really trying to fight for myself. And that, is something to celebrate.