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I had another good talk with J yesterday, though I kept breaking off into tangents.
It’s always good to be honest, and honesty doesn’t usually go hand in hand with an eating disorder. However, we both told eachother we had mixed emotions about living together. As our dietician has told me time and again, it could end up being a great thing, or it could be a sh*t storm.
My weekend was not great. I felt out of control and completely in my eating disorder. I didn’t know how to get out of it. Once the work week started, I went back into “recovery mode,” as structure is good for me.
My therapist called me yesterday afternoon to check in, and I told her I felt better about recovery, but still apprehensive about living with J. This whole situation sucks: her body composition triggers the heck out of me, yet we have so much in common it’s inevitable we will become friends. So except for the whole ED thing (which of course is a big deal), it’s the ideal roommate situation.
Ugh.
So I sent J an email, suggesting maybe we check in once a week with how we’re doing, and what support we might need from each other. She agreed, as long as we have the usual parameters of abstaining from talk about calories, weights, workouts, and foods (well, the food part is hard since we cook together sometimes, but you know what I mean.) So it’s a start. Time will tell, I guess.
Last night, I cut up some old collages I had made in treatment, and fit them into frames. I read a couple of homework assignments that were stuck in my drawing pad. Wow, I have come a long way (baby). I can’t believe it has been a full year since returning to work and leaving intensive treatment.
Treatment was the best thing to happen to me. I was in a desperate place back then, and the only solution was to shell out a good amount of money and go to residential, partial hospital, and intensive outpatient therapy. I am a blessed, blessed, blessed individual to have that kind of money at my disposal (thanks partially to my shellshocked parents) and to have an employer who allowed up to four months of medical leave at full pay.
Residential treatment attacked the purging and (lack of) eating. Though insurance only allowed me to stay ten days, I needed that exact amount of time to prove to myself that I could effectively live a life eating an adequate amount of food without purging. I had never gone that long before. It was hell, but an amazing time of growth.
PHP (Partial Hospital Program) continued to attack the food and purging, while attempting to get at the root of why I had an eating disorder. My relationship with my parents was addressed time and again. I routinely was threatened with being put back in residential because I could not last but a few days without purging. Finally, I got through a weekend without eliminating my food prematurely, and THAT gave me the confidence. It was my breakthrough. I suddenly felt that I could actually recover.
I left my residential and PHP program after a total of two months, and returned home. I attended an Intensive Outpatient Program (IOP) nearby for 4 hours every weekday and some Saturdays. The rest of the time was devoted to being acclimated with living without an eating disorder. I cooked. I ate. I exercised much less than I wanted to. This rhythm helped me prepare for the impending “real world” which would include work. When I was in program, we worked on my self esteem, prior traumas, and what work would look like. How would I eat? Where would I eat? What would I say if coworkers noticed my weight gain?
Each stage of my treatment was necessary… for me. Some people I know only did one of these types of treatment. Others did only two. Still others found recovery with weekly dietician and therapy appointments.
The key is to be open and honest with oneself. If I’ve learned anything in the recent weeks, it’s that personal recovery is absolutely essential. Living with any speck of an eating disorder is no way to live. Improved energy, physical health, clarity, self esteem, and meaningful relationships are only some of the fruits of recovery, and recovery is only possible with at least some level of treatment.
Yesterday, I ate over 100% of my meal plan.
I did not feel guilty for doing so.
Dinner was hard to eat, but I got through it.
Today, I’m on track for 100% again.
Things are looking up.
Last night, I had a fashion show for the roommates. I have a wedding on Saturday and a bridal shower tonight, and I have the fashion sense of a dead ant (read: none). They showered me with jewelry, shawls, and girly shoes. They told me what I’d look better in. There was much laughter and shouting and whatnot.
When I lived in a (two bedroom) condo (with five other girls… oh, the memories) during my outpatient treatment, we all handled things so well. We cooked together. We shopped together. We ate together. We participated in anything revolving food… together. And we all grew and learned and encouraged and received encouragement.
But, we were patients in a treatment program first, and roommates second. This is not how I want to relate to J. Unlike the girls in the condo, I see a potentially lasting friendship and, er, roommate-ship with her. So talking about food and exchanges and exercise plans and meal plans and therapy nonstop is not ideal.
But, sometimes that’s what I want. There is no one else in my life (besides a few friends from my support group, but neither of them deal with restricting) who lives in the same proximity who GETS it. sometimes I crave the ability to relate.
So, finding a healthy balance for both of us remains to be seen. But the cool thing is, I can feel myself getting into a good rhythm of casually mentioning ED and recovery type things, but above all being myself and just acting like a goofball.
Last week was hell.
Besides being constantly hungry and sick from a plethora of caffeine and next to no food, my mind was playing insane tricks on me.
Living with an anorexic is hard, when one is trying to resist anorexia.
I had emergency sessions with my therapist and dietician. I tried to eat but couldn’t get above 40% of my meal plan. I was going downhill.
Time for reinforcements in the forms of my best friend and boyfriend.
I came up with a goal. If I was not FULLY back on track by Thanksgiving, I would move out. I have no idea where I’d move, but the goal was to provide motivation, and not actually have to relocate.
The prospect of moving has propelled me to eat. 60-ish% on Saturday. 75% yesterday. And I’m aiming for 100% today.
Let’s get this straight. I don’t want to eat. I want to starve. I want to “be thin” (whatever that means). I want to look like her.
But I can’t always get what I want.
I haven’t done much posting in a while, eh? There really hasn’t been much to report. I have rarely even thought of my ED, and if I struggled, I quickly got myself out of it (“it” usually being unhealthy ED thoughts.)
But life has definitely changed. The boy and I made it official and are “in a relationship” according to Facebook. I’m happy to be dating him. A week after we decided to be all cute and happy and call eachother girlfriend and boyfriend, I told him about my ED, treatment, recovery, all that.
He handled it amazingly. All positive. All encouraging. All supportive. Gah, he’s rad.
So that’s definitely a new change. Having a boyfriend. Also new on the life front is that I started school. Again. See, I never graduated from college. I worked my way up at my job to a position that usually requires a masters degree, and am now finally getting my undergrad done. On my company’s dime. Not bad.
Also new is the roommate, J. A and I have been living with psychoroommatefromhell, and we finally decided to kick her out. We were nice about it, and psychogirl was cool with it because she didn’t like us anyway.
So now we have J. She moved in a week ago.
She’s super sweet, and has a personality similar to A and I, so we knew it would work. But, there could potentially be a problem.
Long story short, J is in the beginning stages of recovery for anorexia. We randomly discovered that we both saw the same dietician, which outed both of us since she only sees clients with eating disorders. She’s also in therapy with an ED specialist.
But, as you and I know, recovery is not easy. She struggles to eat enough, and usually doesn’t hit her caloric goal.
My first thought was that it was awesome she and I were living together. Built in support, when needed. Someone to relate to. But since talking in-depth last night, all I can think about is restricting.
I am fully set on restricting again, and can only assume it’s because J is very thin and I want to look like her. I want to be at my initial recovery weight, not my current weight. I want to go back to my romantic view of my ED, not the reality of the hell I was living in. I want to lose weight, and lose it quickly.
This can’t end well.
I was sad on June 1, 2010. It was the day before my birthday, and I was away from my friends.
I was living in a condo in San Diego with 5 other girls from my day treatment program. They were nice and everything, but I was struggling with my ED and feeling that I was hanging on to recovery for dear life – I needed my friends from home.
But I couldn’t have them.
My birthday was on a Wednesday, and a close friend from home was going to visit me on Friday. But still, I was homesick.
I woke up on my birthday, and before I could make it to the kitchen for breakfast, I was greeted by paper streamers all around the doorway. “Happy Birthday, Veronica!” was scrawled on the mirror in marker, and more streamers were hung in the living room.
“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” my roommates shouted. Gifts and cards were given. I was overwhelmed.
These girls became like family to me, and tears are welling up in my eyes just thinking about everything we went through together. Victories, discouragements, highs, lows.
We tried to make the most of it – hiking, kayaking, watching the World Cup soccer matches at godforsaken times.
We ended my birthnight on the beach, drinking rum and (diet) coke out of our treatment program’s water bottles and laughing.
Today, I woke up to text messages from the very same girls, and am looking forward to dinner and drinks with my hometown friends.
Sure, I wish I never needed treatment in the first place. But I am so grateful that I got to spend that time with some amazing women.
I’m a bit spoiled.
When daylight savings time rolls around, I abandon the gym and head out to the local trails a few nights a week. This is what I have to look forward to.
Given the past few days I’ve had, I have treasured these runs and the views. I took the beauty for granted for a long time, but last week I brought my phone out with me and stopped a few times to take some pictures and soak it in.
It’s amazing what happens when one stops for a second. Physical fitness isn’t impacted in the slightest. Emotional stability is heightened. Happy day.
A post mother’s day shout out to my favorite mom.
I’ve written about her before, but to preserve the lightness and positivity of this post, I won’t link them here. Suffice to say, we haven’t always gotten along. And we will probably always disagree a bit. We’re incredibly different, and recognize that in jokes referring to my “real mom” that’s out there, somewhere.
I’ve had baby fever, recently. I can’t wait to have kids. Be a mom. Start a family. I don’t know how my mom did it, raising me. She sacrificed a lot: her job, salary, time, time, and more time. She dropped her needs and usually never got to them. She spent hours helping me with my homework, taking me to practices for sports she couldn’t care less about, putting together projects for classes that I couldn’t care less about.
She didn’t want me to go to the college I insisted on attending, but she and my dad still helped with the tuition. She wasn’t happy with a lot of my choices in my teens and twenties, but she grinned and beared it anyway.
I had a lot of bitterness towards her. Some of it, perhaps, was warranted. Some of it would have been better attached to myself. But it all came to the forefront as I entered treatment, and the awkwardness between us grew stronger. She didn’t know how to act around me, because she was used to the façade I had been wearing. I was angry at her because she couldn’t see how much I hurt. We both were drained — emotionally and physically.
It was a very hard summer for our family, but lately as I’ve reflected on it, and her, I’ve realized something important: she’s my mom. She won’t change. And if she did, she wouldn’t be her. She’s old enough to have already come into her own, and she has no desire to change. I have no desire to change her anymore. She nags, she worries, she tries to be overprotective even though I haven’t lived at home in years.
And she’s my mom. And I love her more all the time.
This past weekend was much different from last.
My friend and I decided to go to Catalina Island for the weekend, with no agenda but to relax and have fun.
We froze on the boat, but I had my red bull in hand so all was well.
I'm on the right. Yup, I'm outing myself right now.
Upon checking into the hotel, we grabbed some lunch at the beach club and headed down to the beach, where some fruity friends were waiting for us…
The next day, my friend’s roommate joined us for the day, and we went for a hike.
The only problem? We got a little lost on our way to the trail head. So we went on a long hike on our way to the hike. There were still some pretty views…
No problem. We found the botanical gardens.
And then, the trail. With some spectacular views.
After that… more beach time!
It was a great weekend. More about it tomorrow. Now, I have to quickly adjust to reality and get back to work
I don’t post a lot when it comes to eating disorders and the media. While celebrities are human just like I am, I just don’t see much else in common, and am left skeptical with each interview or press release they issue.
When Demi Lovato entered treatment last fall, I remained skeptical. Another celebrity going to rehab – like she’s really going to change, right?
My bad.
I don’t know if I agree with Lovato’s decision to become the unofficial poster child for ED’s, self mutilation and bipolar disorder. That sounds like a weighty (pardon the pun) aspiration for anyone, much less a teenager who has less than a handful of months of recovery under her belt. However, I was struck by her interview in PEOPLE magazine. In last week’s issue, Lovato explained how difficult it is to be out of treatment and still required to eat all of her meals and snacks, and how it is a job in and of itself. She’s grateful she is not working, because…
“My goal every day is to eat three meals, and it is hard enough. There are days when I feel so overwhelmed, like I could not do it … I’m still learning just to like the food …”
She gets it. The difficult (to say the least) part about recovery is that our healthy coping skills are not yet fully (or sometimes even partially) developed, yet we still need to eat regularly without using any compensatory behaviors. I was so accustomed, wired, and used to using most behaviors in order to react to almost every situation thrown at me, it was literally agonizing to abstain from doing so.
When I first took my medical leave from work last May, I planned to spend two weeks in residential, two weeks in an 8 hour-a-day “partial” program, and then a month or more in Intensive Outpatient while working full time. Those plans were quickly scratched when it became almost unbearable to eat a meal without crying. Add in the emotional turmoil of over five group therapy sessions a day plus individual therapy and nutrition appointments, and I was tapped out.
Recovery is THE toughest thing I have ever pursued in my life. That is why I took four full months off of work getting myself to learn how to eat. Even after those four months, I found myself planning each meal on paper, making sure each food group was properly allotted for because I simply didn’t know how to eat any other way.
Recovery takes a long time. That’s one reason I am so hopeful for Demi – she lasted for MONTHS in treatment. How long do celebrities usually go to rehab for? A few weeks? As long as it takes for the press cycle to turn over to a new victim? The fact that Lovato went to an established center that is incredibly suited for her age and co-existing conditions proves that she and her family get it.
If you are attempting recovery and frustrated at the slow process or the level of difficulty you are having, take heart: it takes time. But it gets better. Soon, Lovato will get back to work, and learn to adjust to eating on a hectic schedule. You will move up in your recovery, have some bumps in the road, get back up and go even further. Don’t be discouraged that it’s so difficult to “simply” eat. We know how nuanced eating disorders are and that it’s not about the food… even though it is.
Put one foot in front of the other. In front of the other. In front of the other. And you will be well on your way.
