Pruning

This might not make sense to anyone else, but bare with me. When I was a kid my dad planted a wisteria vine on the trellis in our backyard. It was beautiful and super green and grew these beautiful purple blossoms every year. It provided beauty and some shade. It had a purpose. Then, after a few years, the wisteria vines kept growing. It was still beautiful. Slightly overgrown, very green, but still pretty. Then over time, as we were sitting on the back deck, we noticed little sprouts coming through  the wood  floor. Then on the other side of the house, across the deck. Sprouts. Wisteria sprouts coming  through the wood and growing and breaking things. Eventually the vines of the wisteria grew through the metal chains of the porch swing, making it completely lose function, reliability, and strength. Yes, it was still beautiful, but it was out of control. Recently my dad tore down the wisteria. I remember feeling sad because it looked bare, and I knew I’d miss the pretty purple blooms. But for the sake of the porch and the house, it needed to go. It needed a fresh start.
That’s kind of  how I feel about my eating disorder. It felt beautiful at first.  It had a purpose and a function and I could still see that. The beauty and function outweighed the negatives. And then it didn’t. Then it grew out of control. And while it  may have appeared one way on the outside, it was tearing  apart everything inside of me. So I’ve spent the last few years, and in particular the last 7 months, tearing down those vines. Pruning. Starting over. And yes, there are days when I miss the  “beauty” and “function”, but I know in the long run it would have never worked. So while new beginnings are scary and sad and not always pretty,  sometimes they are the most  necessary.