For years, I believed age and chronic pain had taken art away from me for good. A year of recovery, deliberate nutrition and strength training later, I picked up my pencils again.
Grief, ED recovery, Mental Health and all the lovely things that give my Sisyphean rock meaning
For years, I believed age and chronic pain had taken art away from me for good. A year of recovery, deliberate nutrition and strength training later, I picked up my pencils again.
I drew another reason to recover from my anorexia relapse. I want to recover from my relapse, To be more present with you — Like when we had slushies at Krispy Kreme. That memory alone Is worth fighting on through.
I want to recover from anorexia, So the cake is no longer a lie. So I can eat it — And not just draw it While pretending everything's fine.
Three years ago, I gave up drawing because of pain that felt like a heart attack. Now, in the middle of a relapse—and a storm—I picked up a pencil again. This post is about art, disability, grief, and the terrifying hope that maybe, just maybe, I won’t have to let go again.