It has been a rough week, both with ED/treatment things and personally. I am starting to process it all and (attempt) to look at it all with a clearer mindset.
Monday started out pretty fun with our picnic at IOP. It was different in a great way from what I’ve been used to at meals there. We all brought some typical picnicy foods and went off to a cute nearby park. One of the two silos had a rock climbing wall, so I was just a little pumped for that. The meal was definitely challenging for most of us, but being outside made it feel lighter. Once we got back to treatment and reality, I started to shut down. I didn’t say more than a few words in the 1-2:30 group because I was too terrified of the dietitian appointment following.
I wasn’t entirely surprised with how hard it was, but I also didn’t fully anticipate what was coming. I drew up plans for a more wait and see approach. I wanted a few steps between now and partial. I wrote my
excuses reasons, some legitimate, why PHP isn’t possible and asked a lot of questions. Part of me figured that she wouldn’t necessarily buy everything I offered, but I also wasn’t ready to hear what their plan was.
K put it right out there in the first couple minutes: her and R think it’s best for me to go to PHP, and I should actually set up an assessment and tentative start day ASAP. That was pretty much my worst fear confirmed. I fought back right away, of course, even once she brought logic into the equation.
She asked me what I would do if I broke my leg right now. Would I continue to work in housekeeping, ignore any doctor’s orders, refuse a cast, not do anything to reduce pain and swelling? Would I be mad at myself for not being able to just get over it with no help? Obviously the answer here is no. As a nursing student especially, I know how important medical intervention, rest, etc is when healing from an injury or illness. I’ve talked time and time again about how mental illness should be treated like physical ones (in terms of making it valid, deserving of help, etc), yet I am being a hypocrite and not applying that concept to myself.
I feel guilt, shame, frustration, anger at myself and the world, hopelessness, uncertainty. I have refused help this whole time, barely reaching out to any supports at all. I admit, I’m just not taking care of myself. As cheesy as it is, I think I do need to treat this relapse (yep, I said the R word) as if it were any other illness. I deserve and am allowed to ask for help when I’m no longer able to do this on my own.
Right now the plan is pushed out a week or two. I agreed to talk to my parents about supporting me and share about my struggle if we could wait out contacting FV. I know they didn’t want to at all, but my team agreed. Maybe they’re just doing it to appease me or maybe they’re hoping I realize that it isn’t a viable option in the end. I honestly don’t know. I’m not fully sure if I can do this or not, I just know that I have to anyways.
I’ve had a few moments since Monday where I considered the possibility and need of treatment. I was relatively close to emailing my therapist and asking if it might be a good idea to get an assessment at FV just in case. This wouldn’t be waving a white flag, mores so looking at my options. When I wrote and considered sending my email, I was a bit scared. My mom knew/knows I need support. It’s been okay. The thing is, I might need more than what I’m asking for and I am terrified of doing anything else. I guess partial could be some sort of safety net? I’m not sure why I am somehow about 3% okay with this. Maybe it’s my effort to fix my “broken leg”?
Whatever the case, I think I need to consider what recovery means, what steps I am committed to taking, how I can get there, where I want to be… I need to do this. I’m running out of time to get ready for fall semester. I want nothing but to graduate on time. Letting go of the ED (even just some parts initially) will be difficult, but maybe the future without it is worth the fight. I am trying to believe that an steps needed to get me to a healthy place are just like someone getting a cast, resting, and taking medications.