Most days I don’t feel like I’m in recovery.

Even a year later, I still feel at odds with my body. But I’m not worried. I know, as I sit here typing this over an open box of Pizza Hut (stuffed crust, obviously) and A&W root beer, that it’s simply not worth it to go back, to undo all that has been done in a year. Pizza Hut dates taste too good, and the warmth of a nourished body is unmatched during a winter weather advisory. And though most days I am unhappy with my body, sometimes, for a few days, I forget to stare at it in the mirror. I don’t body check for a week. I don’t pull or prod. I could cry over the accomplishment that is.

I can’t fathom telling myself a year ago that I would forget to check my body for a week straight, and that I wouldn’t rush to the mirror when I realized. But, instead, I’d be crying happy tears over cheesy bread. I will admit, I had big goals for this milestone. Big dreams for what a year in recovery would look like. I made a list of all my favorite foods when I went to treatment, hoping one day I feel brave enough to have them again:

• Crab rangoons

• Pad Thai

• Fried rice

• Sausage and cheese McGriddle

• Olive Garden chocolate lasagna cake

• Stuffing w gravy/cranberry

• Warm brownie with ice cream

• Ramen (not from the packages)

• Sushi

• Chocolate Frosty from Wendy’s

• Deep dish pizza

I think I’ve had just about every one of these in the last year (though I’m now vegetarian and had to make some substitutions). I’m so proud of that. Genuinely. I made this list thinking “I can’t wait to eat these things again, but I know I’ll hate myself when I do.” And I don’t and I didn’t. Yes I have bad days, yes I hear that disgusting voice trying to pull me back. But I won’t go. I’m far too stubborn. I’ve come too far. Plus, I’ve tasted wayyyy too many crab rangoons to let them go again. I joke, but it does make me emotional to think about. I think we often sell ourselves short when we don’t meet the goals we initially set. We scoff at our progress because it isn’t quite enough, it wasn’t what we were hoping for. Well I’ve hit goals I didn't know I wanted to meet. I found joy I thought was lost forever.

Sometimes we don’t achieve our goals because they’re not the ones we’re meant to be achieving. Maybe we were meant for so much more. Maybe the goals we don’t set are the most important, after all.

Happy 1 year to all who are healing and hitting unknown goals.