Birth...times two

In this week's parashah, after a couple of weeks of plagues and back-and-forth among Hashem, Moshe, and Pharoah, the Jewish people finally are liberated from slavery in Egypt. It's a pivotal event if ever there was one--so important, in fact, that Hashem says to Moshe, "This month shall mark for you the beginning of the months; it shall be the first of the months of the year for you." But wait...don't we already HAVE a "first month"? Doesn't the Jewish year begin in Tishrei, with Rosh Hashana? How can the month to which Hashem is referring (Nissan) ALSO be the first month of the year?

I recently read an article that offers the following explanation: Tishrei marks the anniversary of creation and the beginning of human history. Nissan, however, marks the birth of Jewish history--when the people of Israel were finally set free from the cruelties of Egyptian slavery. So, both months commemorate important "firsts": Tishrei, the first day of humankind; Nissan, the first day of Jewish freedom. Therefore, both months can be considered the beginning of the Jewish year.

This concept strongly resonates with me--the idea that even though we are physically born just one time, sometimes we need another "birth" to really kick our lives into high gear. I have found this to be especially true in recovery. Although in the concrete sense my life began on the day I came into the world, I don't think I really began living until I became solidly committed to recovery. Literally speaking, I of course have been alive every day for the past 30 years. However, it is also true that many of those years were spent in darkness, not so much living as merely subsisting. I remember with clarity the day when I first tasted freedom from that mute, restrictive existence: a friend of mine, who had also fought--and won--her own battle with an eating disorder, presented her story at a panel discussion celebrating eating disorder recovery. After the panel ended, this friend looked deep into my eyes and told me she believed in me. I had worked hard. I had a story of my own to tell. And one day, she said, I would be able to stand up in public and share my own victory with others. Something in the way she spoke made me believe her, and that moment stands out to me as the point at which I really began to believe, with my whole heart, that I could recover. This is not to say that since that day my process has always been smooth and easy...but I can say that since then, I have remained fully committed to living my "best life" in recovery...and now I am enjoying the life I have created.

The amazing thing about recovery is that it truly gives us the chance to start fresh, to "reboot" ourselves, so to speak. Birth was a miracle that happened to each of us, but recovery is a miracle we can choose for ourselves. Rather than lamenting all the time lost to the eating disorder (an easy trap to fall into!), why not actively choose a starting point from which to build a fully vibrant life? If we liberate ourselves from our own versions of slavery, we can celebrate that freedom as the time when we allowed ourselves to begin anew.