Stepping on the Road

I gently knocked on the bedroom door, "Mum?"
"Come in."
I tentatively entered the room where my mother was lying in bed reading, her glasses had slipped ever so slightly down her nose and her hair was still wet from her evening bath. She didn't look up, "What do you want?" she asked, rather bluntly. Needless to say she was quite precious about her evening reading time. My face dropped at the sound of her impatience. Is this the wrong time? Am I being dramatic? Do I really need to tell her, or can I fight this alone?  No! I had to suppress these thoughts. I was here now, I needed to speak up.

I perched on the edge of her bed. Immediately when she saw the grave expression I held, she dropped her book and sat upright, "What's up?"
"I...er... would like to talk to you about something."
"Go on." Though her face went unchanged, I felt as though I could see the hundreds of clogs working in her brain trying to process all of the possibilities as to what I might say next.

That sickening wave of anxiety in the pit of my stomach that I had recently come to know all too well made its presence known, I did my best to numb it.

"I have a confession to make."

I was met with silence.

"I don't know how well I've hidden my struggles in the past few weeks, but since I finished my calorie counting diet back in April something in me has changed." I paused, expecting a reaction, but received nothing. "I... I can't eat normally anymore." Saying it aloud made me feel small and pathetic, thus resulting in a slight croaking to my voice. "When I look at food, all I see is calories. I'm frightened, Mum. Frightened to go out in case I'm faced with any food that's just... off limits. Frightened to eat anything that hasn't been weighed out or measured. Frightened that all of this weight I lost will pile back on overnight... I've never felt like this before Mum and I don't know what to do. I didn't think calorie counting would do this to me..." I started to sob, "I've heard this happens, but I thought I would be an exception." She stared back at me, deadpan. I shut my eyes and shook my head, feelings of shame overwhelming me. "I know what you're thinking... you idiot, just eat healthy and be "normal". Trust me Mum, at this stage, that would be like telling an alcoholic to "just stop drinking". I don't expect you to understand it, and I know it sounds ridiculous, but I promise you I cannot help it."
What followed next filled me with hope.

She smiled.

She smiled with warmth and understanding, before reaching out to hold my hand, "Well done." She whispered.

"What for?"

"You just took your first big step on the road to recovery."