show ’em all

I spent a good amount of my high school years hooked up to IVs, being told that not eating 'wasn't going to make me pretty'. (That was my mother.) I had extra time on assignments, was allowed to drop classes I couldn't be present for, and deflected pitiful glances from classmates. Seventeen, for me, tastes like laxatives and mouth wash.

It's funny how when you weigh ninety pounds, you still steal all the air out of the room.

I didn't know who I wanted to be. This is more important than 'what' you want to be. I knew I didn't want to be sick. But I also didn't know who I was. They tell you, 'seventeen is so young.' But these were the same people who didn't know how many calories are in a fig, or how many reps on a elliptical is takes to burn off the creamer in my coffee.

Pathetic.

That was the voice in my head. I went to college, dropped out, and ended up in a mental hospital. You know what hurts more than your mother refusing to visit you? Staring recovery in its face and realizing it's who you have been all along. That you'll never escape who you are at your core.

I don't believe in fate. But God makes plans, and we laugh.

Currently, I don't like what I do for a living. I wish I had more initiative. Where's the girl who could run on the treadmill for two hours straight? She's now thirty and streaming Hulu.

Have dreams. When I was in rehab for the sixth time, I was forced to eat a potato chip and cried. When those tears fell, I didn't want to be who I had become. It took years to change. I dreamed of a day when I could eat with abandon. It came.

Eating potato chips isn't an accomplishment. But it's my story. I think you need to look at your story, and with your dreams, knowing who you are, go from there.

It's not easy. But that day I was forced to eat a potato chip? Other girls were forced to, too. And they said: Alison, I saw you eat one, and I had the courage to do it, too.

Be that girl. Show them all who you really are.