Harmless monster in the liminal light.

Opal Creek, raging.

Its been awhile since I spoke at any length about my eating disorder. I think, as silly as this may sound, I actually hoped I was "done" with it. So long had it been since I'd experienced a trigger of any size that I did kind of think, well, maybe..

But now, maybe not.

I guess that's what I'm here to talk about right now, the seasonal nature of things. Seasonal indeed because somehow this autumnal shift, my favorite time of year, has sent me reeling across my recovery. Maybe the darkness has seeped in too far, past my windows and into my skin, maybe its the cold or the desperate look of the bare trees by the river.Whatever its origin of source I feel it, the way someone standing too close brushes against your arms.

But I've learned what to do. And I understand why this shadow part of myself would rise up to be seen at this time of year, with its liminal nights and transparent curtain and heavy action in the 8th house we had on October 29th. Its fitting. I can now recognize this eating disorder, this shadowy, dark, and truly honestly dangerous part of myself as my inner child, tugging at my hem because she needs something that I've over looked. In this light, soft as bedsheets, this monster is not so dangerous. With compassion and gentleness, I ask, "What is it?" With compassion and gentleness I eat, and sleep, and coo that test scores aren't everything, and don't drink too much caffeine.

And so it goes. Soon it will pass and she, and I, will rest again. Tides turn, trees burst and bloom and rest again. Eating disorders are far reaching, touching each aspect of our lives, ready to morph into new triggers we never would have expected, like having to put your cat on a feeding schedule.

And so it goes. And I'm thankful for these seasons and cycles, in the trees and in my body. The stubborn, gorgeous insistence on survival, no matter what the odds.

-A.H.