It’s just food.

In a sense it’s easier to quiet the voice that says you aren’t aloud to eat while on vacation. Routine-less and removed from my everyday environment, it’s easier to fight it off. There is an end in close sight, I know I can try to briefly enjoy life now, and if I need to come running full force back to my eating disorder when I get home, I can. That is always an option.

An option I am not proud to name, but one nonetheless that helps take away a couple decibels of relentless shouting.

I can do this for a couple days. For a week, even. For a birthday party. For a holiday. For a special event. For a date night.

And I couldn’t put it aside for any of these things last year. So if my progress is in celebrations, even if I come crawling back to my eating disorder, as planned, as soon as I enter the door to my home, I am so happy about baby steps in celebration. A part of my authentic self coming through that I was so sad to have lost.

There were so many hiccups on this trip that derailed any planning I did, but the victory is in the kindness and grace I was able to find for myself. I acknowledge this victory and feel good about it.

My anxiety, though, has set up quite the camp in my brain space and I can’t help but feel overwhelmed with recovery vs eating disorder battle. I experienced some rest from that fight and still 3 hours from returning home, I’m worried the wise part of me will be drowned out in the coming days.

It’s just food. Lean in, reach out, accept hugs, write. Recovery-me can hang onto these things.