Resurrection

It’s Easter, the time of celebration in the Christian calendar. I have to admit that I wouldn’t classify myself as one religion or the other. However, I have attended a Catholic university for both my degrees, gone and worked on religious retreats, have attended different churches throughout my mid-twenties and now work for a Catholic Uni. However, I never like to place myself into a box, because frankly I don’t think it’s necessary (I know that some of you are disagreeing right now with me, and that’s ok—I think conversations about religion are fascinating and I truly respect people’s faiths).

However, as I think back to my past fourteen weeks since the New Years, I have to think to myself what have I done with myself that has been positive? I think that past fourteen weeks can be summed up in ‘longing for the old Michelle’. (that is really hard to admit). I am not too sure if I’ve have grieved everything that I have to grieve in order to move on…and frankly I am not too sure if we’re ever truly over the first person we date, the first ‘you have to drastically change your life’, ‘you might have cancer’, ‘you were so close to being where you wanted to be and now look at yourself’.

It’s my Resurrection.

It’s my coming out of the dead, the sorrowful, the agony, the grief, the denial to recognise that I have to be committed to myself and to the things which bring my body joy. I have sacrificed my body enough.

I have recently come across the fact that if I stick with the diet for ONE year, I can slowly bring back the things which my body isn’t able to process right now. There is hope…it’s overwhelming.

Knowing that I have a chance to heal myself is so powerful. I get to heal myself. I get to be healthy again.

I said to a girl yesterday, ‘you have ten weeks before you go home back to America to change how you feel about yourself. Worst case scenario is that you do nothing’.

No more worst case scenarios. Amen.

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