For today, since it is quite late and I have to wake up at 5:30 tomorrow morning, I'm going to share a piece I wrote when I was in the depths of relapse. At the time, I knew I was sick. I really did. And I was sick and tired of being sick and tired. Though I didn't like to admit it, I knew very well that I could die if I kept going the way I was going for much longer, restricting my food intake and exercising for hours and hours on end each day. I didn't want to be sick. But I didn't necessarily want to be healthy either.
And therein lies one of the hardest things about fighting and overcoming an eating disorder: The fear. I was afraid of recovering, and I was afraid of continuing to relapse. I was afraid of success and I was afraid of failure. I was afraid of being happy. I was afraid of growing up. I was afraid of living, was what it really came down to.
I didn't want to die. But I didn't want to live either. Again, I want to elaborate more on the importance of this statement later this week. But just know that that paradox is true for almost everyone struggling with an eating disorder, in one way or another. Luckily, my body kept fighting for me while my mind was dying. I am amazed to this day that my heart didn't stop, that my brain kept working at such a high level, that I somehow found the energy to exercise and do homework and interact with the world. Of course, I know now that I was probably in at least a slightly manic state at that time, which was pushing me to do so many things while getting only about 5 hours of sleep per night. And not eating very much.
I remember while I was in treatment explaining to my favorite counselor, Gary, what I felt like that summer of relapse: I knew I was stuck, I knew I needed help, I knew I could die. But I also knew I couldn't pull myself out on my own. And that thought was absolutely terrifying. Not being able to save myself without help was terrifying. Something inside of me, something I had become such good friends with, was slowly killing me. I didn't want ti. But I did. But I didn't....But, there it was. Always.
Luckily, I found my way out of that dark place. But it certainly was not alone. Ultimately, I did have to save myself, I had to make the choice to step into the light. But I didn't have to handle the world alone. And, more importantly, I didn't need my eating disorder to handle the world. I cast her off to the side and came out of the darkness.
Looking back and reading this post gives me hope still today. Hope for everyone stuck in the depths of an eating disorder. Because I really have come so far since then. And everyone can come to this place. With love, hope, faith, and a lot of perseverance and hard work, we all can. Together. Together we cross the bridge from the dark to the light.
Anyway. I hope this post as well can give you insight into what it feels like to be stuck in an eating disorder. Hopefully tomorrow I can write an actual new post, and not just reuse old ones? ;)
I love all of you! Stay strong!
If you think you or a loved ones may be struggling with an eating disorder, please get help. NEDA offers many resources for treatment and support. Please use them. It is oh so important to get help early and get the right help. It can make all the difference.
http://nedaw.myneda.org/helpline
7 August 2010: Willingness to Change
Yesterday I had an appointment with my doctor. For the first time in a very long time, it didn't make me want to cry or yell or run away. She was actually nice for the first time I can really remember. I don't mean to say she screams at me, but there's that tone of voice, you know, where you know they're disappointed and probably a little angry and it FEELS like they're only yelling at you and don't understand. But yesterday was...okay. The first okay appointment I've had there since my relapse in April.
She was talking to me about how I have the power over my own life. A few people have said this before, but for some reason yesterday I finally listened. It was like *I* woke up for once, and ed wasn't there telling me not to listen, or that I don't have power without him. I also feel like my parents try to control so much that I completely lose the idea that I might have any power whatsoever.
But in the end, I know my recovery and my life are dependent upon my willingness to change.
I remember when I was inpatient at Denver Children's in January 2009, one of the scales that our therapists rated us on was our willingness to change. I don't remember all of it right now, but I know the first one was that we didn't even recognize a problem and I believe the last was "Action," as in we were taking action to change. I honestly cannot remember the ones in between right now. But I know I'm past the first level, yet still not close to that highest level.
In the rare moments when ed isn't clouding my mind, I know I'm not happy. I've lost so much, given ed so much, and the only thing he's given me back is a fake sense of control over my life. This isn't the life I want, but it's the one I'm comfortable in. Plus I still have this intense fear of gaining weight. I don't want to lose anymore--trust me, I don't. I panic when the doctor says I've lost weight. I also panic when she says I've gained, but they're a different sort of panic, if that makes sense. I wish I could just stay right where I am, but I know that's not possible.
What I'm really struggling with right now is fear. As a person with severe anxiety, fear drives my life a lot of the time. But I'm wondering when the fear of gaining weight will finally be overshadowed by my desire to live life. My senior year of high school starts in just 9 days. And dang it, I want to be able to enjoy my senior year without all of THIS stupid stuff hanging over me like an awful storm cloud. I want to be able to finally admit to someone why I relapsed. Because I know the answer, but I don't like talking about it. All it does is make me cry, and I can barely even form the words to say it.
I think it's a huge step for me, though, that I'm realizing all of this. I'm finally starting to see my truth through the lies that ed puts in my head. I want to change, but I don't feel like I'm strong enough to let go. I wish I could look fear in the face and just tell him, "Hey, you know what? I don't care. It's my life." I'm not quite there yet, but I truly hope I can be.
I'm sick of this. I'm sick of not really living. I'm sick of hurting my family and hiding away from my friends. I'm tired of this existence (which is really all it is). Laurie Halse Anderson's book Wintergirls has a very powerful quote: "I am angry that I starved my brain and that I sat shivering in my bed at night instead of dancing or reading poetry or eating ice cream or kissing a boy..." That quote pretty much sums up my feelings about my life right now. I want to just live and be happy and have the power over my own life, rather than giving up that power to something else and hurting myself in the process.
This is a very long blog post. But I really needed to write out all of these thoughts, so that I can remember them on my tough days, which unfortunately still far outnumber my good days.
I have a willingness to change, but the fear still overshadows that willingness. I only hope that someday I can realize my strength and my beauty and use that to overcome the fear.
I love all of you. All of you are such an inspiration to me, and you keep me going. You keep me fighting. I haven't given up the fight yet, and that has to mean something. I'm not sure what, but I know I'm not going to stop fighting, even with the pain and tears. I want to believe, and someday I will.
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