209 days

I walk in the front door and tears immediately spill down my face. It's like a time capsule. For 7 months,  209 days, nothing here has changed. In fact, the only thing that dates the passing of time are the medical bills and mail piled up on the kitchen table. I wipe the tears and walk towards the kitchen. The color is different. Is this where the forks always went? I cringe as I think of all of the times spent opening the empty pantry with a hungry stomach, hoping to find something to fill me up without making me bigger. I shutter when I look at the fridge. Memories of diet sodas, energy drinks, alcohol, and low fat yogurt that would sustain me for days. Moving on.  My cute red couch. The couch I napped on multiple times a day while my dog jumped on me to go play. The couch that called to my depression and drew me in for hours at a time. Moving on.  I head towards the bedroom and hold my breath like a monster is going to jump out at me. I open the door. A perfectly made bed. Flowers and fresh sheets. I exhale. But only for a minute. The pink 5 pound weights sitting on my dresser call to me. I rush over and open the dresser drawer, knowing what I would find and hoping for a miracle. No such luck. A drawer full of laxatives, diet pills, and a blood pressure cuff, so that I could make sure I was still alive sometimes. Moving on. I open the closet. I know I shouldn't. I know I was told to wait. But I can't. I open the closet. Cat and Jack children's clothing hangs from the closet racks. All clothes that fit me 7 months ago. Each clothing item with its very own past memory. Not going there. Not tonight. At the end of my house tour,  I sit on the bathroom floor. 209 days gone. My eating disorder hell perfectly preserved within these 4 walls. 

But things have changed. I smile when I listen to my friends talk about their new house, or starting or a family, or the new drama at work. I smile because I am reminded that for the past 209 days, life has gone on. Part of that terrifies me. A life that has moved on without me. Friends and work and life that didn't pause for 209 days. But then I smile. I did not pause for 209 days. I have grown and stretched and cried and laughed and made new friends and set boundaries and had honest and deep and fun conversations. I have decorated hospital windows for Christmas and passed out Valentines to new friends. 

Home is here. And home is good and will be good. Change will happen and it will be scary. But not changing would be scarier. 

Home is here and I'm okay.