I was successful. Not successful in the sense that this is how I imagine being fully recovered. But successful – I ate everything on my meal plan, plus added calories after my meeting because I was simply craving ice cream. I woke up early and walked, praying and reading as I did. I ran after work, but have no idea how far or how fast. I ran for the sheer joy of the trail, the sweat dripping down my back and the excitement of seeing deer tracks ahead of me in the mud. I ate meals. I ate when I was hungry, even if it was just to grab a carrot.
On top of all that, I had a miserable afternoon at work. The little boy that I so love to work with has become increasingly defiant and obstinate in the afternoons. More than once, I wanted to send him to his room and stand in front of their pantry, eating everything in sight to numb the frustration and inadequacy I felt. Instead, I wrote him a letter. I told him how sad and hurt I am by his attitude. I asked if I had done something to upset him. I told him how very proud I am of him and how much I love him and cherish his friendship.
I did it, just for today. I fought. I have absolutely no desire to do it again tomorrow. But today I fought. Today I succeeded.
And even if I go right back to making my bed in the pits of hell tomorrow, that will not change the incredible miracle of today.