Today marks 10 months in recovery for me, and it feels surreal to even be typing that. It has also been a full year since I started therapy, and it’s amazing how much can change with time. I never thought I’d make it this far—not in recovery, not in healing my relationship with myself, food, and the world. Yet here I am, having planted the seeds that I needed to heal and showed them enough care and love for them to grow. As my flowers bloom, I feel unrecognizable from the Hamda I was back then. But maybe for the first time in my life, I feel certain about who I am and where I’m going. Living day to-day can make us forget how far we’ve come. Reflecting on the past year reminds me of the strength and intentionality it took to get here. I remember sitting on my therapist’s couch a year ago, completely terrified of the decision I’d made. I was so empty that the idea of having goals or dreams—or even just living a normal life—felt like a fairy tale. But this past Sunday, I sat in that same ...