Dear body – end of 2016

Dear Body,

I would like to thank you for the 21+ years you have given me. You’ve faced many challenges, illnesses, injuries, surgeries, and everything I’ve done that brought harm. Despite it all, here you still are.

I am grateful what you have allowed me to do. You gave me the strength and endurance to play ten years of soccer. You make every summer in Ludington magical with all the activities you make possible: tubing, running down sand dunes, walking in the state park, swimming in Hamlin Lake, fishing. I am able to give and receive hugs with those I love most. My obsession and love for yoga wouldn’t be possible if you weren’t flexible and strong. I couldn’t dream of being a nurse one day and helping others without you being healthy enough to withstand the demands of the job. Someday I will chase my children and grandchildren around. You have gifted me endlessly. Even the parts of you I hate still are a blessing for reasons that are beyond what’s on the outside.

I am sorry for my abuse, hatred, neglect, and harm I have given you.

I am wearing you down. I know that if it doesn’t stop I will push you too far. I really can’t promise all of this will end soon or ever. I am going to try. When I’m stuck in that dark place, when I hate you and wish you were anything but the way you are, I hope I can remember the good. I will look to what you have given me and not what you are like on the outside.

I want to make amends. You deserve my love. Please be patient as I learn how to feed you, exercise in a healthier way, listen and cater to your needs, be nonjudgmental, repair as much of the damage I’ve caused that is possible, appreciate you more, be your friend and most of all, love you.

2017 will be different. I promise you that.

Emily

IOP: a fate more difficult than residential

By Thursday, I still hadn’t connected with my emotions, broken down, or processed the fact that I am on medical leave with mandatory (if I want to stay out of further treatment and continue school) IOP. I had so much on my mind that I couldn’t handle it. The time came when I was meeting with the new dietitian. I was randomly called out in the middle of AT/process after lunch. Being under the impression that I was able to continue with L made it a surprise, one that I never wanted. I finally broke over the change and lack of control in my life now. It was then that new L (to make things more confusing of course, ha) confirmed what I had already been thinking about, “this is going to be harder than residential.” We talked about how much of an uphill battle I’ll be facing these next few months. I cried from being so completely overwhelmed. This is a harsh reality to face.

This may seem odd to anyone who has never experienced multiple forms of treatment. Residential means being stripped of your freedoms, weeks or months away from home, and a complete overhaul of your behaviors. It certainly is hard to make an abrupt change and carve out the time to do so, however, one that’s just as cushy as it is drastic. You are stuck in this place that has all of the support you could possibly need, 24/7 to be exact. It’s actually pretty difficult NOT to experience at least some growth, even if that may be forced.

IOP is a 180 from residential. In my case, I will got 3 times a week (M, T, R) from noon until 5-5:30. We have 3 groups plus lunch/snack each day, along with weekly individual therapy and dietitian appointments. The entire rest of the week we are solely responsible for following meal plans, avoiding behaviors, and applying all we’ve learned. There is no one to check in on us multiple times a day or monitor our meals. If I didn’t finish a meal in residential I would only get a supplement. On the other hand, not adhering to my meal plan or otherwise slipping backwards now can lead to forced inpatient or residential and medical leave. I have major work to do and much to lose.

I always assumed my time at CFD would be the most challenging thing I have ever done treatment-wise. How could it not? I traveled across the country and gave up school. Adjusting to the new life that is residential was unlike anything else I’ve experienced. As much of a struggle this all was, it really was the best environment for recovery. In no way is recovery ever easy, but the amount of support in residential makes it significantly more attainable and manageable.

I can fully see how different IOP is. The effort to show up for my recovery is substantial. I have just 15 hours a week in treatment with 3 meals and 3 snacks. I need to make every single second count. The work doesn’t stop there. I cannot go home and just return fully to the ED. Motivation is key and if I fail to find it I am looking at IP or residential in the very near future. No one can make me recover now.

Where do I go from here? I could become consumed by fear and hopelessness, knowing of what’s to come. Giving up is absolutely the easiest option; however, it is not the one I choose to make. I am going to fight. I’ve been through years of struggle – times where I never believed I could make it through, but I did. IOP seems impossible right now and this may be my hardest battle yet. Even so, I will hold on to hope for a healthier future.

 

When treatment (and ED) multiplied

Two months ago, I only had therapy every other week.

Just over one month ago, I saw a dietitian weekly and therapy biweekly.

One month ago, I added a doctor to the mix. Around that same time, I switched therapists and began attending one group per week.

Two weeks ago, I attended a couple more groups.

Last week, I had activity therapy, R’s group with snack, art therapy, nutrition and yoga, and another therapy group with R over Monday and Tuesday.

This week, I was placed on medical leave, attended my first two days of IOP, and had to switch dietitians without any prior knowledge or choice.


It has been an absolute whirlwind. I remember thinking at so many points that I didn’t need this next step, I wasn’t sick enough. I argued, deflected, begged, hid the truth, ignored, and did everything to fight hard against any extra treatment.

I can’t fight this anymore. In fact, if I do fight it will end with me being forced to leave school and in residential or inpatient. This is serious. If I continue to follow my eating disorder it’s going to do a lot more than send me to a higher level of care.

Where I’m at now is a crossroad. I know what will happen if I continue with the eating disorder. It’s safe and familiar and easier. I’ll have the control I crave, watch my body shrink down to an “acceptable” size, and be able to cope with everything in a my life (albeit in a rather unhealthy way). On the other hand, recovery is the unknown. I’ve had some glimpses, but going full in is scary. It could mean a full life where I can become the best me: a nurse, wife, friend, mother, and person, all without Ed. The question now is this: do I stay in the familiarity of my eating disorder and fight all forms of treatment or trust in recovery by fighting my eating disorder? I think I need to at least try option #2, because I can always go back to the ED (as I have now) while recovery will only become less attainable as time goes on.

It’s over (!!) and will be for a while

As of this past Monday, I am officially done with school for the semester. I doubted the entire last 2 months that I would even finish it. I wanted to give up. Sometimes, I wish I would have. No matter what ended up happening, I did make it and I didn’t fail any classes or do bad enough for it impossible for me to make it into the nursing program.

This was my hardest semester. It isn’t easy to complete homework, study, or take tests when your body is malnourished and brain lacking the carbohydrates it needs. No matter how much I know logically, Ed still won a majority of the time. I spent more time taking naps and thinking about food than all of my schoolwork combined.

My whole treatment team has told me the same thing: you have to be stronger in your recovery if you want to successfully complete nursing school. Dr. C talked about how I can’t be so used to lying and cutting corners as I enter into the program. It isn’t okay to hide my struggles and carry it over to my schoolwork then eventually my job.

I will go into this in a future post with my thoughts on everything, but as of Tuesday I will be on a forced medical leave for the interim (J term) semester. I honestly was pretty shocked when Dr. C told me this. She was very close to forcing me inpatient or residential. For now she is agreeing on IOP, assuming I can make progress . This next 5 weeks or so are going to be spent in treatment 3 days a week. I will be able to stay on campus still (which isn’t typically allowed but Dr. C set that up right away).

I have to work my butt off if I want to start classes again for spring semester. It’s scary and hard and I’m not sure I can do it, but I am going to try. Goodbye fun interim class; hello, all of the groups, appointments, challenges, and (hopefully) growth.

 

Oh, my heart.

I had expectations going into my appointment with Dr. C last Friday. She would go over the DEXA scan and tell me it was normal. The echo would also be normal. She too anticipated those results and had no worries that it would be different. It was.

“Your bone density turned out within normal. I would like to see it a bit higher, but we’ll keep an eye on it. I wasn’t expecting any abnormalities with your heart.. but I was wrong.”

Cue shock, disbelief, and finally numb/lots of fear. She certainly isn’t a BSer, so I actually had to trust her word.

I’m not going to get into exactly what the echo found, but I’ll give her analogy. If you picture my heart muscle as a trampoline, a larger person will produce a larger bounce with more force for the trampoline to return to shape. If you take a smaller person, it only is pushed in a little and doesn’t require as much effort to get back to shape. My heart is looking like the second instance. It isn’t being forced to give a strong response. Over time, this would weaken and then calcify my heart. *this is very paraphrased

This abnormality is something that just isn’t seen in a young person. She fully believes that my malnutrition is the cause. The starved heart isn’t a healthy one. Adding dehydration to the mix doesn’t bode well either.

For now, this doesn’t have to be permanent. I can work hard in my recovery to nourish my body. If I continue down this road and the heart begins to calcify it will never get back to normal. Currently, I am using hydration to help. Restriction is back full force and it can be hard to get water down too. If I want to give myself the best chance of reversal I will need to eat. That’s pretty terrifying.

I began bawling before I even got out of the building. This can’t be true. I am still so much larger than I had been in other periods of my eating disorder. How could I have done this to myself? While the real Emily has these concerns, Ed’s view is the opposite. He says it isn’t that bad and I don’t truly need to eat or listen to her. My heart is going to be just fine. On the other hand, this also proves that I am sick and doing well in anorexia. (side note that I found interesting: this reminds me of how the serpent tested Eve in the garden way back in genesis)

This whole situation is a mixture of thoughts and emotions. Almost a week later I still can’t decide what to believe or think or feel. I’ve gone through shock, denial, sadness, etc, but not acceptance. Honestly, I probably need to see Dr. C again before any of this will really sink in. For now, I pray that I won’t randomly pass out or anything (as Dr. C warned there is a small chance it could happen) and eat/drink enough..

 

Finals week.

It’s upon us and I may feel like death until I take my last exam. Once I’m free of all of that stress I’ll have time to post more again. I have an exam tomorrow and Thursday so by the weekend I will get a little break. I have lots to update on! Until then, here’s some memes that explain my life right now.

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stress-everywhere

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Restriction is…

Unlike my previous Anorexia Is post almost two years ago, this is not planned or edited. This is raw. I am in the pit of restriction and this is going to be an honest picture of what that’s like.

Your therapist, dietitian, and doctor not being able to hide their concern. So much brain fog. Exhaustion that sleep cannot touch. Wasting perfectly good food your mom sent you. Eating the absolute bare minimum. Putting off supplements.Being terrufued if Lies, so many lies all day long. Having to write down an entire notecard of what happened on session because you lose it all within an hour otherwise. Seeing someone lifeless looking back at you in the mirror. Hours of time going by with little memory of what happened. Feeling too weak to even do gentle yoga. Apathy. Watching your grades slip fast. Hating being at home on the weekends because it means eating more/food police. Hiding the truth from everyone. When it hurts to smile or be around others. Ed thoughts every waking moment. Exhilarating, when it comes to the eating disorder. Ignoring your hunger until it isn’t even there, only emptiness. Forgetting to message your mom all day. Putting everything else last. Shutting out everyone. Hiding. Ignoring any signs that you’ve gone too far. Anxiety dominating everything. Freezing no matter how many blankets you have. Sticking to the smallest list of safe foods. Defining your worth by the amount of food you ate that day. Goals shrinking by the day. Denying yourself every food you enjoy. A false sense of strength. Napping for hours on end.Not just about losing weight.  Zoning off constantly. Being at constant war with yourself. Needing to justify every bite of food. When ED behaviors happen on their own. A dying body. Losing the girl underneath this disorder. Not believing those in your treatment team.  Completely miserable.