Recovery does not always rock, and anyone who tells you otherwise is lying. There are days when you’re exhausted and taking one more bite is the last thing that you want to do. That’s the honest truth. There are also so many perks to recovery though, so many pros that outweigh the cons. A few weekends ago, I was able to experience one of the larger, more exciting pluses to recovery: I did not let my eating disorder dictate my social life. Not being an active member in the youth group at church, I was invited by someone who is to be a part of an annual youth retreat. In my mind, all I saw was a weekend away from home, away from routine, away from safe food, and away from my usual, more predictable environment. A few months ago, I would have immediately turned the invitation down without even thinking twice about it– all because of the anxiety the food element of the weekend would have brought up, a few months ago. Now, the invitation was received in a very different light. Now, I gave it some thought. Now, I decided to step out of my comfortable little box and go to the retreat.

As it turns out, this was a fantastic decision– hindsight being twenty-twenty and all. But going into the weekend, I did not have the vision to see this. I was unsure of how social interactions would go, girls being girls and cliques being a thing amongst them. I would be taking an extra two rest days. I had no clue what food we would be eating. And, I knew that personal space would be limited in the event that I found myself in need of an emotional break. Honestly and truly, this weekend put me out of my comfort zone in pretty much every major way possible, yet I agreed to go. Recovery win number one of the weekend.

My prediction about food wasn’t wrong. Other than the Quest Bars I packed, nothing was safe. In fact, every single meal was more than unsafe, they were all fear foods. Following pastries for breakfast, white bread at lunch, and pizza for dinner on Saturday, we had donuts for breakfast on Sunday. Donuts. Donuts. The only thing that I fear more than donuts is chips. My dear friend, H, said it well when I told her about the donuts in a rather worked up tone, to which she responded with, “I know, I know, donuts are a big deal.” Allow me to claim eating so many fear foods in a span of thirty-six hours as recovery win number two of the weekend. I’ll claim managing it without a single panic attack as recovery win number three of the weekend.

Beyond clear cut recovery wins within the weekend was the weekend as a whole. I stepped out on a limb and discovered it was sturdy. I reconnected with some amazing girls, and I met plenty of new ones. I had fun; I was a normal teenager. My eating disorder did not slow me down or stop me this weekend, as it has so many times before. Recovery may suck sometimes, but at others, the perks of recovery are just a little too good. Living for those perks is was keeps most of us going. One day though, weekends like this one will not be a perk to recovery, they will be the result of a normal, healthy life. That is a terrifying thought to me though, so I’ll keep taking it a day at a time, enjoying the perks as they present themselves.