For One Day

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 foughtToday 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.

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