#b8ddf2

Recovery/the process of trying to begin recovery is a hard time. A lot of people say that time in therapy, treatment, taking time away from life to reflect is “finding yourself.” But how the hell are you supposed to find yourself if you don’t even know what you’re looking for?

That’s kind of where I am right now. I’m supposed to be finding new interests, investing time in hobbies, ect. to create an identity for myself outside of anorexia but the truth is: I don’t know anything about myself. I know that sounds crazy, like I live with myself everyday, I am myself, how do I not know anything about myself? But it’s true- I don’t even know my favorite color.

I feel like I know who I am in groups- the basic blonde, anorexic, sorority girl- but I don’t know who I am as an individual. I don’t make decisions on my own and therefore, nothing really comes down to me. I followed my brother to college, I joined my mom’s sorority, I even do the same makeup routine as one of the influencers I follow on Instagram because I hate the pressure of making my own choices. Believe it or not, I’m super hard on myself (lol it’s a joke, you already knew that.) But to some extent, the thought of making a bad decision on my own terrifies me. I don’t want to be unhappy with my own choice so I follow what other people do almost as a safety net so I don’t have myself to blame for misfortunes.

In terms of identity, this means I’m always following the crowd. I said it best to my first therapist in treatment when I told her: “I’m whatever anyone wants me to be.” To some college boy I’m just a body. To my sorority sisters I’m a coffee loving, letter wearing, girl who is incredibly predictable. To my grandparents I’m an academic success. To my fellow treatment inmates I’m a sick girl who’s in a competition to the grave. But to myself I’m kind of a mystery.

In middle school, when painting canvases from Pinterest was cool, I painted myself with a big dividing line down the middle. On one side my hair was red, as I had embarrassingly dyed it at the time, and on the other side was my natural blonde color. The blonde side included brand names and pearls, where the red side included grungier, vintage clothing. At the time, I thought the blonde side was the “real me” but looking back, they were both two masks I was putting on to present myself the way I thought others wanted to see me. That’s probably pretty normal in middle school but the truth is: that identity crisis hasn’t changed for me.

Recently, I was talking to an old friend telling him that it feels like I’m two different people. I think of myself in two distinctive ways. One being really fun, carefree, unique, and funny. The other being tragically and beautifully broken by the events of my past. Obviously, the first side sounds better than the second but to me they’re both attractive. Knowing me and my AmBivAleNCe the real Ash falls somewhere in the middle. I’m funny but I’m broken. I’m carefree but only under the influence. I have fun but when I’m in control. I could recover but I could happily live comfortably anorexic for the rest of my life.

Ambivalence is my thing. But according to my therapist it isn’t allowed to be: “Ashlyn. Ambivalence cannot be your thing. That’s not an identity.” I’m always in the middle, right on the edge of the best and the worst but I can’t make the decision to pick one. What if the best isn’t that great? What if the worst kills me? So I sit in the middle: the breeding ground of suffering.

To be honest, it’s not a great life to live. Constantly keeping up with other people is exhausting. As I said in therapy, in reference to my eating disorder but it also applies to most aspects of my life, I’m winning a competition that isn’t even going on. I am (well, was) the skinniest because I starve. My skin looks the best because I wear literally $300 worth of makeup everyday. I dress well because I never stop shopping. Funny that everything I mentioned was aesthetic- I truthfully didn’t realize that until after I typed it. Sometimes it feels like the only way I know how to live is in the pageant like mindset where I’m trying to show myself off to look the most perfect. Probably to hide the fact that nothing about me is even close to perfect.

So how the hell am I going to create my identity? I guess the first step is deciding to look for it beyond my knack for starving myself. I’m going to have to suck at things and fail at them but I’ve been told that won’t kill me. I’m also going to have to trust that there’s a really cool life out there waiting for my healthy self to find it.

Right now I’m kind of like a baby chick. I’m in a shell that is so dark and comfortable, it’s all I know. But I’m going to have to grow and break that shell. When the shell breaks it’s going to be terrifying. I’m going to see light that I’ve never seen, I’m going to see a huge world that is completely unknown to me now. My world will feel like it’s ending but the truth is, I’ll be entering a place with opportunity, people, and beauty like I’ve never known.

Also- I’ve decided my favorite color is #b8ddf2.