New Year

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions. I only set myself up for failure and disappointment, expecting myself to keep them perfectly when nothing, in reality, is done perfectly. I believe in dreams, goals and hopes... but I hardly know what to hope for or dream of any longer.
The past six years in my eating disorder have been so other than what I thought my life would be. I find myself a little jaded about making any new plans. What if they all come crashing down, just like so many tries before? I get paralysed so often by fear of failure. It's scary for me to put my fragile little wishes for the future out there, knowing that I myself am the one who destroyed them before, knowing that it could happen again. So I hesitate. Dare I dream of a place of my own, school, a real career, travel, even love and friendship and happiness? I want to dream, and I want to be well, but how much is too much to ask? When asked in group what I wanted to be doing this time next year, I froze. I really was afraid to picture it, because what if it weren't that way and I disappointed myself again?
Don't get me wrong. I haven't given up hope by any means. I'm only saying that with a life like I've had these past years, and my recovery so fragile, my hopes and dreams must for now be very small. They have to be achievable, picturable. I hope that I won't purge tonight. I hope that I'll progress in treatment. I hope I can open my Bible a few times this week. Little steps, see, are all I can manage. As they say in AA, one day at a time. Maybe one hour or minute or meal. And maybe that's ok for now. The dreams will come.