It’s Friday. I thought it was Saturday all day. I don’t really even know what time and space are at this point. I wish it were actually the weekend, but I’ll work every day this week. There’s really no such thing as weekends in this line of work.

We went to El Paraiso for margaritas tonight. Hope, Kristin, Shelby and I. We split the sample platter and probably drank too much but it was much needed.

The more I drank, the more I spoke. As usual. But tonight, I told my mental health story a bit more than I’ve done with this group in the past. I love this group. They’re my community. But I still haven’t shared this part of my story with them.

I talked about my disordered eating habits and how it’s rooted in mental health struggles. Rooted in controlling my body image and looks and how that makes me feel. It’s rooted in pressure to perform, to run, to be this tiny little version of myself. A version I’ve not been in years, but still feel pressure to live up to.

These beautiful and kind souls were there for me more than I could ever possibly ask them to be. They opened up and shared so much of their own stories and questioned mine in a way that I’ve never felt comfortable with before.

What I’m realizing is that with the trauma I’ve faced, the PTSD that I’m currently enduring, and the heaviness that I’m carrying right now, I no longer have space to hold my eating habits and the struggles I have with food.

It’s time to open up and allow space for this in a way that I’ve never allowed before. It’s time to share this with those that I love and let them carry it with me so that I can carry the other shit I’m feeling right now and expect to feel for a long time.

While my disordered eating habits are something I’ve always held onto, it’s no longer the “big” thing. I finally feel safe and comfortable making space for deeper issues like Alex’s suicide and the hurt I’ve felt since that day.

I’m choosing to live with the struggle, but not to let it control me anymore. I’m choosing to sit in this new pain and hurt for a while and allow it to take the space that I’ve been holding for something much less meaningful.

Life is greater than food. I will always believe that. And while food equals life, they’re not synonymous with each other.

Communicator. Educator. Empath. Survivor. Writer.