The Final Word

I wrote this poem shortly after I finished my first read of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 10 years ago today. I think it still very much encompasses my feelings about all that Jo has given to me and to all of us. I am so grateful to have had Harry in my life as I grew up, and to have that magic in my life still. 

The Final Word 

Dear Jo, 

You caught us in your spell 

As we all wished Harry well 

We boarded the Hogwarts Express 

What would happen, we couldn’t guess 

Alongside Harry we fought 

Thanking him for all he taught 

We were for him down with Quirrell 

Crossing our fingers through the yells 

Then Book Two came 

We cheered as we heard Harry’s name 

Smiled as he was reunited with friends 

Hoped Tom, not Harry, would meet his end 

You gave us Book Three 

And Harry had the chance to be free 

We watched him grow; 

Meet his godfather, finally know 

Then was Goblet of Fire 

The book like nothing prior 

Full of death; dark 

A new journey for Harry to embark 

For three years we waited 

Wondered, worried, and debated. 

What would be in book five? 

Who would die, who would survive? 

The fans were for Harry the whole way 

Even as the Ministry doubted everyday 

We sat in shock as Sirius fell 

Like Harry, not wanting to bid him farewell 

Jo, you had us hooked 

Hastily for clues we looked 

Half-Blood Prince was coming… 

The anxiety was almost numbing 

2005-July Sixteen 

We headed to bed, lots of caffeine 

Again following Harry, Hermione, and Ron 

Their lives, we based ours upon 

We wondered about that Horcrux 

Jo, this plot line was your deluxe 

We cried as Dumbledore fell from that tower 

Why him, why now, at this important hour? 

In the next years, we read and reread 

Always worried about what lay ahead. 

Who would die? 

What was it that made you cry? 

All us avid fans counted hours 

Until the final book would be ours 

We dressed up and left, excited 

For something other than tragedy, united. 

Cheers rang out as clocks read 12:01 

We headed to bed, not to rest till we were done 

Hungrily we read, hanging on your every word 

Always shocked at what occurred 

Those characters we mourned… 

Why, oh why, weren’t we warned? 

Fred, Dobby, Tonks, and Lupin 

Moody, Hedwig, Snape, and Colin. 

One by one, as the sun got higher, 

We closed our books: full of all we desired. 

We had laughed, we had cried 

Now, happy and tired, we set the books aside. 

Your books were our lives, for those rejected 

They were the only thing with which we connected 

Now it was over, what to do? 

It was so hard to bid Harry adieu… 

Jo, you’ve had your final word, now let us have ours: 

There is only one thing to do, after washing the scars 

We want to thank you, and Harry too 

These words, they are so overdue 

We grew up with Harry and his friends 

Made the same mistakes, the same amends 

Your books united fans throughout the world 

We were so alike, our lives unfurled… 

Neville and Luna taught us we all belong 

No matter who we were, we were all strong 

We found our true selves in the Sorting Hat 

Nervous, on our own stools we sat 

We smiled when you included us in the dedication 

Your books were the cause of much celebration 

So, Jo, thanks for everything you gave 

For teaching us just how to be brave 

Farewell, now, Jo, we wish you the best 

As first generation readers, we are blessed 

We will always love you and Harry 

There will be nothing said to the contrary. 

Know this, Jo: 

You taught us everything we know. 

Thank you forever, 

For making us so clever 

NEDA Week 2017: Rising

As I said last year, I don't really talk about my eating disorder history as often anymore. It's no longer because I'm ashamed of this part of my past (the shame went away years ago), but rather because I never know how to talk about it. Will it be awkward? How will people react to me being so open? Is this something people are comfortable talking about?

Honestly, all of those questions really should be irrelevant. It doesn't matter how awkward or uncomfortable the conversation is...we need to talk about eating disorders. They have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, and yet are rarely talked about. I think the shame around eating disorders is probably higher than the shame around many other mental illnesses. It seems somehow easier to understand someone suffering from depression, anxiety, or bipolar disorder...or, if maybe not easy to understand, at least the sufferers don't get the bulk of the blame for their mental illness. Whereas, on the other hand, society as a whole seems to believe still that someone chooses to have an eating disorder, and chooses not to eat and slowly kill themselves.

I did not choose my experience. I don't even remember when exactly my anorexia started. I suppose you could say that some part of me chose to eat very little and exercise for hours and hours every day...but if you could live inside my head at that time, you wouldn't say any of that was a choice. I hated what I was doing. I hated exercising for 6 hours a day. I hated that I couldn't think or smile or have fun. None of it was a choice, it was just something my brain kept telling me I had to do. Even in the depths of my eating disorder in the summer of 2010, when I really did know that if I kept going the way I was, I was going to die...I couldn't pull myself out on my own. Eating disorders have incredible power, and sufferers must have the support of others and belief in themselves to have power over those eating disorders.

But it is 100% possible to come out on the other side of an eating disorder happy and healthy and thriving. We need hope and support and honest conversations for that to be possible, though. Which is why I believe National Eating Disorders Awareness Week is so important. Those of us who have survived need to share our stories. We need to share the diversity of people who suffer from these terrible illnesses. And we need to share the hope.

This year, I just want to share brief portions of my story, year by year, to really emphasize how far I've come. But also all the work I've had to do along the way and all of the support I had to rise up and thrive.

2009: I enter treatment for the first time. I was in the hospital for an entire month, and I honestly think that for most of this period I was still in denial. I myself didn't really believe I had an eating disorder, but I went through the motions of treatment to make my parents and the staff happy and to get out of the hospital. (Let me stress this is incredibly dangerous...and something I think happens far too often with patients. Find reasons that YOU want to recover, and don't include in any of that "it will make my family happier".) Discharge in February, and again just kind of walk through the motions for most of the year. Lose my dear friend Nick in September, and also lose any of the motivation I had to keep moving through the motions.

2010: Fall back down the spiral of anorexia, but this time much much worse than any time before. As I've said before, I really did lose the desire to live. I didn't want to die, but I also didn't necessarily want to live in the world anymore. I realize those thoughts seem contradictory and probably don't make sense, but there was a difference for me. I was terrified that what I was doing would kill me, but I also couldn't stop. My eating  disorder numbed my feelings and made it so I wasn't really living with the pain of the world anymore, so it was working. Dangerous and deadly, but working. It did come very close to killing me, and I ended up in the hospital first and then treatment again, for three months. This time I didn't try to fake anything; I was 100% honest with the pain and doubt and fear.

2011: After I discharged in December of 2010, I will say I don't think I had yet 100% committed to recovery. I knew I wanted it, but I definitely had my ups and downs in the early months of 2011. But through high school graduation and a very fun summer, I think I did finally realize how wonderful life in recovery was. No, it wasn't always happy, but it was so much better. In 2011 I also moved off to Hawaii for college, which was incredibly difficult in the early months, but I also think was very important for me to get away from home and some of the very bad memories that had formed there during my later high school/eating disorder years.

2012: I don't really have any super bright or down spots for this year. It was incredibly hard to be in Connecticut during the summer for my internship, as I again felt very lost and unsure of myself. And also very difficult to be living off campus and away from a constant supply of people to talk to if I wanted. So I think the important emphasis here is that I got through those uncomfortable feelings without turning back to my eating disorder.

2013: This year is probably the closest I came to a relapse during my years in recovery. I was sick for most of the summer with a peptic ulcer, which made me constantly nauseous and uncomfortable. I also generally felt very alone. But again, what was important at that point was that I still wanted to move forward. I still knew I could move forward. And I didn't fall back down. Instead, especially after I received medication, I moved back for my junior year of college 100% motivated to move forward.

2014: A good year overall. Spent the summer doing my Hollings internship with the shark lab in Panama City, FL, which really helped me move forward and believe I could have the research career I thought I wanted.

2015: The end of college was very tough, as was beginning graduate school. The anxiety I had suffered from since I was a little kid really skyrocketed during these periods.

2016: Most important point here is that I finally decided to go on medication to help manage my anxiety, after being against medication for no logical reason since about the age of 15 (when medication was probably first offered to me). Immediately it felt like a weight was lifted off my mind. Not that everything immediately 100% became OK, but I definitely now advocate enthusiastically for trying out medication to help manage one's crazy brain chemicals. This definitely helped me become more comfortable in graduate school.

I still struggle daily with anxiety and being very unsure of  myself, but since 2011 I have definitely learned I can handle those feelings. I wouldn't say my thoughts are necessarily 100% healthy still, as I still worry far too often about mundane things and still don't necessarily believe in myself. So the takeaway I guess is that recovery does not necessarily equal happiness, but it does equal a fuller life. You have to feel the pain and the loneliness to feel happy and full.

It feels crazy to me still how far I have moved in seven years. I still distinctly remember February of 2010 (the Vancouver Olympics, for reference) the beginning of my compulsive exercise, numbing my thoughts, and actively or not actively trying to leave the pain of the world behind. This February, I spent my time getting actively involved in the local Women's March Environmental Committee, working in the lab, teaching classes, and spending time with friends. Not once has it crossed my mind "Maybe I should exercise for 6 hours today." Not once have I thought "maybe I shouldn't eat this." Yes, I know those are crazy thoughts, but seven years ago that's where I was. And it's important to remind myself how far I have risen from my rock bottom.

This National Eating Disorders Awareness Week, I encourage all of you to talk about eating disorders. But also, since the week is coming to an end, I encourage you to continue talking about eating disorders. Support your friends and family by talking and listening, trying to understand instead of making assumptions. Fight for insurance companies to cover treatment; write to your congressmen to fight for those who can't fight for themselves. We need to bring eating disorders out of the darkness. Because there is hope, and everyone can rise up. It's not easy. I literally did fight for my life, and I won. Now it's time for all of us to help fight for those still struggling.