I eat healthy now. I no longer hold my tears on a pedestal as proof of my suffering, I don’t swallow my anger and let it burn through the lining of my organs until it kills me, I’ve given up on forcing myself to relive my mistakes, hell, I don’t even drink soda anymore. I eat healthy now. I wake up everyday and I make myself a fruit smoothie and eggs, and I own up to my bad habits that years ago would’ve been impossible to let go of. And as I sit here writing this I know that I’m not referring to what I eat.

This story isn’t wholeheartedly about food, its about life and how I’ve made mine worth living. How I’ve found beauty in getting up in the mornings and joy in the repetition of existence by putting one foot in front of the other every morning. It’s not always easy. This stubborn optimism that I keep in my back pocket doesn’t mean I cannot feel pain. It doesn’t mean the sadness doesn’t come, it means I don’t let it consume me.

When sadness knocks I open the door and take a breath. We go for a walk and I let the wind breathe love into my ear as I talk to them. Crying and upset, but strong as I refuse their offer to sleep the day away because I got things to do. And I know that I can feel bad, and I can let despair into my home a thousand times and nothing will happen. I will stay as strong as I have gotten and as happy as I want, because no amount of fear or pain can change the fact that I eat healthy now.