When I woke up this morning, I was feeling pretty good. That was about two hours ago. Now, I can’t stop the tears from flowing as the anxiety creeps into my stomach, clamps down, and pulls at it as if trying to either rip it apart or fold and layer it on top of itself.

It’s easy to fall into past cycles, former ways of coping with these feelings, but I’ve come too far to spiral into an obsessive, worrisome fit of panic and stream of intrusive thoughts that will likely manifest into physical symptoms and pattern of googling. I won’t do it, even though part of me wants to.  As I detailed in my last post, it’s easier to do all of that. It’s easier to sit here on my couch for several hours and worry about things that will likely never happen than it is to deal with why I really feel this way or all the things I have to do.

Recovery from an anxiety and/or eating disorder is hard work. And right now, I don’t want to do the work. I want to sit here and revert to ineffective, unhealthy coping mechanisms because it’s easier. Maybe that makes me lazy. Maybe that makes me unhealed. Or, maybe it makes me tired–tired of feeling this way, of fighting, of reliving past pain and trauma. Maybe I want to take the easier way because the hard way hurts too much and I just want to be free of the pain. Yep, it’s easier to panic, obsess, and fear.

But after a few minutes, I recompose myself and I remember that the easy way is what is destroying me. Not facing the trauma head on is what led to the anxiety, the panic, the bingeing, and the weight gain. It’s the easy way out that is making me sick(er).

And so with that realization, I start the breath work and begin to calm my mind so I can focus on the underlying feelings of loneliness, neglect, rejection, and worthlessness so that I can re-parent myself and be the voice I needed to hear when I was a child going through what I went through.

I cry and I write and my stomach aches–until it doesn’t. I release what the irrational thoughts and food binges helped me hold inside and in doing so, I’m healing myself. Today, I made the choice to hike the tumultuous path instead of hitching a ride on the smooth pavement. And, along the way, I tripped, I stumbled, I sweated, I panted, and I ached, but I experienced gushing streams, vibrant flora, crisp, fresh air, playful fauna, and natural quiet. In choosing the arduous hike, I chose life and it was beautifully difficult and so worth it.

Such is recovery.