Time flies when you're having a life.
Let's rewind to one year ago today.
On March 11, 2011, I finished my last final and graduated from DU. On March 15th I took my certification course for Group Fitness Instruction. On March 19th I celebrated my graduation; on the 20th I was fired from my newest fitness gig because I was showing "obsessive behavior." On the 29th my mom and I walked my little red suitcase down Downing street, crossed over 18th, and signed me into treatment.
2012: Today marks one-week in my new Capitol Hill Apartment, paid for with my new salary, outfitted with furniture given to me by others.
At this time last year I believed myself to be very, very alone. I exercised alone; worked alone; ate alone; and even when in public I was so self-absorbed in my quest for success, efficiency, and 'fitness' that I was alienated from all surrounding me. What's odd was that I had a hard time connecting the dots between feeling lonely and not contributing to the situations of others. Shamefully I wondered why no one called me to hang out. It seemed like going to the gym was the only thing that kept 'positive feedback' coming my way, although people's exclamations of "How do you get a body like that?!" I now realize weren't actually compliments. Still, I felt like there was no one on my side. And I didn't care because I didn't need them anyway. Right?
Wrong. Two weeks ago my mom and I went out for coffee. We chatted about my new place, upcoming events, and other mundane topics until she abruptly looked at me and said, "There's something I haven't told you. You have a savior."
It all began autumn of 2007, when I bounded up to DU to begin my freshman year. I loved going to the group fitness classes the school offered and began to be recognized as "fitness girl," which was totally fine because I enjoyed every minute of it and compensated dearly with dorm food. My favorite fitness instructor was a woman name Kat*, the highest-energy, most positive butt-kicker I'd ever aerobicized with. When two high-energy talkative women get into a room it's a recipe for fun- we became fast friends. For four years I took Kat's classes and when I decided to get my fitness certification I began interacting with her on a deeper level, telling her about my progress, asking her advice, and taking her to coffee.
As my body and mind deteriorated she told that she was concerned and offered support. She wasn't over-the-top about it; she explained some of her own troubles and warned me to be careful and of the long-term ramifications of such strenuous exercise and malnourishment. She said, "You had such a cute little body. Now you look old." This was genuine, kind, and honest. I wanted badly to take it to heart, but the words bounced off of me like oppositional magnetic fields.
Kat knew this, too. Instead of trying to convince me to change she began working for me behind-the-scenes. "She spent three months trying to find my contact information," my mom said. Around one year ago today she finally located my Mom's phone number. She called my mom and said, "You have to do something; I'm afraid Emily will die in her sleep." My mom and I got in a huge fight that evening and I remember feeling confused- I didn't understand where it came from. It wasn't until two weeks ago that my Mom told me it came from one of the most compassionate people I've ever been blessed enough to have in my life.
Kat didn't just call my mom. Every time I told her about a new fitness gig she also called that company and told them not to hire me. She was the reason I couldn't seem to get a job anywhere. As much as it hurt her to watch me be confounded by another rejection, she secretly knew that she was helping me on my path to recovery.
As I sat listening to this story the room mushroomed around me. The branches on the tree outside stretched further toward the heavens; my coffee cup grew heavy in my hand. The sun brightened. I was so, so small, the most humbled I have ever felt in my life. How could I have believed that no one was on my side, that no one was fighting for my right to sit and type this now? There are some people in this world who live in a genuinely compassionate way. They are people who possess the unbridled love for others that allows them to act selflessly without considering payback or consequences. They are people like Gandhi and Mother Teresa and my friends Sarah and Aaron. I cannot describe to you how awestruck I feel when I reflect upon the love that they show. They are my heroes. They are also my saviors.
This is the E[mily]-True Bollywood Story, the facts behind the scenes. I went to India and I came back with the dedication to become a better person. In my quest, I became a self-absorbed worry-wort and doomed myself to skinny-dom.
There are bigger processes happening behind the scenes. There are people and places and things clicking away, aligning the stars so that you can achieve the life God has blessed us with. You're not alone because someone, somewhere, loves you, is working to help you, is sending vibes your way. You're ever-so-small. Isn't that fantastic?
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