This past Monday, I read the little girl I tutor a poem called Hug O’War by Shel Silversten.
It goes like this:
“I will not play at tug o’war.
I’d rather play at hug o’war,
Where everyone hugs
Instead of tugs,
Where everyone giggles
And rolls on the rug,
Where everyone kisses,
And everyone grins,
And everyone cuddles,
And everyone wins.”
I read it to her because it taught about loving others, being kind to others, and being fair to others.
It was a poem about love and kindness, and we talked about what it meant for a good 20 minutes after I read it to her.
Tonight when I came to tutor her, she had this waiting for me on the table:
I cried when I read it.
She had taken those words that meant so much to me, and she wrote them on paper for me with nothing but love and kindness.
It was such a true “hello life moment.”
Sometimes when we are trapped by an addiction, our entire lives can become so consumed with the things bound by them-for example, with Ed and I.
Sometimes I can get so consumed by what I ate today or how my clothes fit, I tend to lose sight of life’s undeniable truths that no eating disorder can overshadow, one of them being true love.
This picture was true love.
I thought I was teaching her a lesson about love and kindness by reading her that poem, when in reality, she actually taught me one.
Recovery was hard for me today. It was a struggle to eat. But none of that seems to matter to me right now, when I stare at that picture.
My life, our lives-is so much more than the tiny obsessions we can get so sucked into like calories or numbers or tangible things to fixate on like clothes or money or jean sizes.
It’s about moments like these-moments where the love of others seems to find its way to our hearts and souls and has a way of bringing so much joy into our lives.
There’s been only a few true “hello life moments” since I’ve started this blog, and this is the first one that has ever made me cry.
No Ed in the universe can give me that great feeling that I felt tonight when I walked in and saw that picture on that table.
Ed can give me familiarity, structure or some image of an “ideal body,” but he can’t give me love.
If I could only love myself half as much as this girl loved me enough to make this picture for me today, Ed would never stand a chance again.
I am on my way to making that happen.