One.

I guess every blog needs a first post.

I’ve had blogs in the past–there was my Xanga at age 15, on which I mostly talked about inside jokes with friends and complained about Driver’s Ed. There were a few vague, pseudo-poetic MySpace blogs. And then there was the secret WordPress blog I had from about ages 17 to 20. Unfortunately, all have been deleted for different reasons, but a piece of me wishes I had kept them so I could better reflect on the many, many changes my life has seen.

Now there is this blog–the blog of a 23 year old woman living in recovery from eating disorders, depression, and self harm. It’s a scary move to make for someone who has spent years fearing things like honesty and vulnerability. But I’m going to attempt to be as honest with myself and others as I can, because I think it’s time to.  Augusten Burroughs once wrote, “The truth is humbling, terrifying, and often exhilarating. It blows the doors off the hinges and fills the world with fresh air.”

I think it’s real what they say, that the truth can set you free. But I think it also sets other people free. When one person tells their truth and shares their story, it empowers others to do the same. It shows us that we’re never alone.

There are hundreds of people whose stories have showed me that the deep, dark feelings I carry inside me do not make me terrible or broken or hopeless. They often make me feel very isolated (oh my god, feelings about feelings–this blog is getting meta already), but in reality they connect me to others. They make me human. But if you never hear another person voice a similar feeling, you’d never know that you weren’t alone.

I think it’s important for our communities (especially the mental health/recovery community) to have as many voices as possible in order to reach across the lines of secrecy and shame we draw for ourselves. Because even one voice, even one “Me too” can change things. I know it has for me.

Not to get all self-righteous, but I guess that’s why I decided to start writing again. Partly for me, and partly with the hope that maybe my story can help someone realize that there is always hope and of course, that recovery is possible.

So, here goes nothing.

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