My son, who’s 4 years old, is sick. It may not seem like a big deal to most people, but with his history a simple thing like a fever becomes fraught with fear and anxiety and reliving trauma.

His temperature jumped to 103.9 last night and then after a couple doses of fever meds it dropped to 94.8

Needless to say, I was up almost all night. I think I slept from 3am-5am.

It really is a miracle that despite my anxiety and stress I managed, at least so far, to keep out of the food.

Honestly, it hasn’t been that hard. It didn’t really occur to me until I was lying in bed last night waiting out the 20 minute intervals between taking his temperature.

It almost struck me as funny. Well, it would have if I hadn’t have been so stressed.

I was feeling stressed.

I was feeling helpless.

I was feeling frustrated.

I was feeling afraid.

I was feeling anxious.

I was feeling alone.

Yet… it didn’t occur to me to turn to food. I just felt those unpleasant feelings and managed them.

It wasn’t pretty the entire time. I cried a bit. Got a little panicky at one point. Beat myself up for not being omnipotent. Recognized the extent to which I was beating myself up for no good reason. Most importantly, I just did the best I could and did my best to let go of the rest. No, wait, this is most important: I did that without thinking. It was just a part of me.

This is what recovery looks like. This is being in the moment, undistracted by temporary salves that just make things harder in the long run. This is feeling feelings instead of blocking them; fighting the problem at hand and my feelings.

It feels pretty good. I mean, it feels rotten, but it’s such a relief not to carry all that crap around with me after the fact.

I stuck to my food plan yesterday because that was all I had to do: stick to it yesterday.

Today, so far, I’m sticking to my food plan. Because that’s all I have to do: stick to it today.

I don’t have to worry about tomorrow. It’s not here yet. That is such a relief.

That box of cookies wouldn’t have been a relief.

I’m so grateful to see that, to know that, to feel that in my bones.

That is recovery.