Defiant with a capital D

Sometimes, the eating disorder takes over and makes me act like a five year old. Yesterday was one of those times.

I am still on weight gain protocol. I hate it with every ounce of my being. This means that if I lose or maintain when I’m under this certain weight range, I will need to supplement. It’s frustrating for a number of reasons. Ed strongly objects because I can’t possibly be expected to gain weight. Boost/Ensure is simply gross. I feel like I’m being punished in comparison to drinking a supplement because I did something to deserve it (like skip a meal or refuse to finish something at treatment). There’s also the whole pride piece, especially when I have to do it around other clients.

Every day of IOP starts with a weigh-in. Yesterday, L the dietitian weighed me. We go way back and she knows all of my tricks/beliefs/arguments really well. It’s hard to “get away” with anything while she’s there. This leads to us butting heads quite often and definitely contributed to what went down.

After she weighed me, L couldn’t find my chart and subsequently wasn’t able to check my weight from Monday. Her suggestion was for me to have a supplement anyways based on how close it was to last week’s weight (which she somehow remembered a week later?). I immediately refused. I was NOT about to voluntarily drink a Boost when I didn’t for sure need it. So, I didn’t. I told her if she expects me to drink one she had to know before.

I thought I had been really sly about the situation and there was no chance that I would need to supplement. When L summoned me out of art I knew I was wrong. She contacted R/K and found out that I had lost weight since Monday. I immediately got super annoyed and tried to fight it. I was/still am convinced that this was a fluke. I had a lot of bloat going on Monday, so naturally I would have lost a little weight jut from that. Apparently, that doesn’t count as a good enough reason to bypass the supplement.

Once I realized that there was no getting out of it, I became mad at the world/IOP/L/whoever had the terrible idea to make Boost. I drank the damn thing, but did so slowly with lots of disgusted facial expressions and the slightest bit of arguing back. I shut down and didn’t ask for what I need because of it. I feel like I didn’t benefit much from the last 2ish hours of IOP, other than getting in a snack.

I’m now over a day removed and in a more reflective headspace. In those moments I felt so angry and completely ignored the whole recovery thing. Ed gets irrational and emotional to the point where it can halt progress or cause harm. I hate supplements and everything, but maybe it would have been better to just agree to one before L found out for sure. I’m not following my dietary goals, so the Boost is making up for what I’m lacking nutritiously. Of course the ED can’t accept that as truth, but at east I’m able to consider it.

I hate who I become when I’m stuck in the ED thoughts and behaviors. My entire focus is avoiding food, exercise, weight loss, etc. I’m not a fun person to be around and I get like a little kid who has tantrums again. Someday maybe the recovery side will take over and I’ll no longer be so apt to the regression. For now, I just want to recognize when the ED takes over these moments so I can find some way to stop it. I won’t be the defiant one forever.

“The day”

The funny thing is, I asked for this. I presented a more in depth take on my treatment history, specifically the summer of 2015, to my team some weeks ago. I skated by that entire summer. Did I need a higher level of care week 1, maybe not. But then NTS camp came and went. My level of struggle at that point, early-mid July, was enough for treatment. I fought hard. Legally, my therapist could do nothing except coax me into telling my parents since she didn’t have a release to talk to them. I used this position to run my own treatment until I hit a major crisis point. By mid-August, I no longer had the luxury of over a month to cushion between then and moving in to college. I had maybe 12 days by the time I told my parents that I was struggling hard and needed inpatient. I spent a week at the hospital then went to orientation a couple days later. That wasn’t truly enough since I ended up in residential a few months later. I’ll never know for sure; however, there’s a chance that it could have been prevented if I had gotten help when I was knee deep in the hole instead of consumed by Ed.

I know how bad that summer was. Ending my last week with a psych hospital stay really stunk, but everything that came before was miserable too. I looked like a normal person, acted like I was perfectly wonderfully fine, but really felt dead on the inside. I honestly can’t remember much of that time other than NTS camp (mainly from pictures). Someone was asking me at work how different things were the first summer v now and I couldn’t think of a whole ton. That makes sense considering I was passing out while cleaning showers and not at all fueling my body. The only other memories are from inpatient. I never would expect every day to be some amazing adventure, but I longed for a summer to look back on fondly.

Another huge goal from the very beginning was to get back on track and into a healthy place for fall. I always struggle at the start of semesters or other areas of big change, so I need some higher ground to fall back on. I took the recovery focused step to tell my team that I wanted an end date, a time where we would seriously evaluate my progress and see what should happen. Monday July 9 worked great, since it was after we returned from Ludington and about halfway through the summer. I basically promised to consider whatever recommendation they might have. Part of me now really regrets asking this of them at all.

For probably a month now my team has had parameters where, if met, I would have to be honest about my struggle. I never hit that but it had no effect on the number of times this was brought up. There has been a lot more serious talk lately, so many “if, then’s” and possible outcomes. I’m not sure why I still expected different today.

We didn’t take the hour therapy appointment to talk through my vacation and other ups/downs of the past two weeks. It was briefly touched on and then R started on the part I didn’t want to hear: she and K both think I would benefit from a couple weeks in partial. It isn’t a set in stone, this is happening for sure thing yet. I’ll have a week still to figure this all out. The first step would be talking to my parents about how I’m struggling. Ideally, I apparently should have done this weeks ago at least. The second step is PHP (partial hospitalization program – around 7 hrs a day). I offered an alternative of C. none of the above. I have a million and one reasons (excuses?) about why neither work. They don’t buy it at all. I saw that coming, of course.

I have a week to figure this out, or as I say get my shit together. There are a couple options here: accept their plan(s) and my inability to handle this, come up with an alternative that will actually be approved, or make some major progress. I felt about .03% hopeful until K squashed that with my goals for the week. They seem really lofty and not something quite possible. I’m not sure if she thinks I can do it or wants to show that I do need help. Regardless, I know this is going to require a lot more effort than I’ve been giving.

I don’t have a clue where things will stand in 7 days. I could be heading into a fun picnic lunch (super excited about this actually) and then a less painful dietitian appointment with therapy the next day. On the other hand, it could be devastating and hard and result in a call with the place I swore I would never be back to.

Yes, I can technically refuse any and all recommendations, but I don’t know that I have a ton of power in what happens from here. Even my best effort may not be enough of a push. I could be kicked out of outpatient.

I want nothing more than to keep outpatient, working 4-5 days a week, enjoying some freedom, and taking time to relax. This may be the best possible time to go through treatment and big change. Maybe, maybe, I might benefit from telling my parents or doing PHP. But it could blow up in my face and be terrible. I guess I won’t really know until something happens.

For now, I will be scared and stressed and unsure. It’s all I’ve been thinking of for nearly 14 hours. I need some sleep, and maybe motivation in the morning. I’ll have a nice full day of work to check out a bit and then star figuring this out later. I can’t promise myself that I can fight, but I can make sure to at least consider all of my choices and not just the one I like.

I have to do hard things

I haven’t been doing so hot. I’m trying to accept that this is relapse and not just a slip backwards. If it was just a small slip, I probably would have crawled back out of it by now.

Things have become more crucial at this point. My team has been more concerned lately, and last week I got some news that I’m not thrilled about. My eating disorder has always included solely restriction and exercise, so my weight trends can be predictor of how I’m doing, to a point. It has been trending down for a while now, and I am now out of the range my team sees as good for my body. I only just found this out last week.

Thursday was rough. I had my phone session with K, lunch and therapy with R, and IOP stuff the rest of the day. I wasn’t fully expecting the news they both shared: I am on a weight gain protocol, starting today. In our treatment facility, this means that if I have lost weight or maintained below the cutoff I will be given an ensure on top of my meal plan. I’ve voiced my opinions of Ensure before, but I’m definitely more upset about the principle of being forced to have them (if needed) and not the disgusting taste.

I know what to expect today. My eating wasn’t great over the weekend. I don’t believe I necessarily lost, but I also am 99% sure I didn’t gain. Ed thoughts are strong. All I can think about is having to supplement. I imagine how I could be defiant and just refuse, but I know that can only lead to a higher level of care or being kicked out of IOP/outpatient.

I don’t have any options other than fight. I have to do the hardest thing and drink the damn Ensure. More than that, I need to find motivation to put serious effort into my recovery. Slipping more jeopardizes all of my dreams. It’s time for Emily to become stronger than Ed again.

Treatment update – IOP round 3

I have a whole ton to update on and a couple posts I’ve drafted, but first I want to touch on a difficult subject that came up yesterday. I’m still trying to accept my new normal for the first few weeks of the semester.

I had an absolutely wonderful day at clinical orientation in the children’s hospital. I’m very pumped for it all. I left in a great mood and just felt positive, but then I looked at my phone. I got an email from R that was a little shocking and very upsetting:

K and I talked and we would like you to be at x exchanges before you stop coming to IOP.  We will extend your time in IOP to 2/15.  If you haven’t been able to reach x exchanges by then we will need to look at having you go to a higher level of care like PHP to stabilize. So,  work hard this week to keep moving forward!

Now I want to back up a little bit. In the beginning of January I stepped up care, attending more groups and eating lunch at treatment. I didn’t consider it IOP because I had other appointments while I was there. I quickly realized that being there the whole time IOP is going on still means I’m in IOP. I think it’s been good for me to get out of my dorm and try to work through some of this. The one thing that hasn’t truly improved (okay, I did have half an exchange increase from 2 weeks ago to last week) is my eating and subsequent weight loss. I don’t know that I’ve had this much trouble getting out of restriction before.

IOP is going relatively well. I’ve had a ton of challenges and mostly stepped up to the plate. Last week Monday ended up being the most exchanges I’ve had in months, thanks to increasing for both my meal and snack at IOP. Even though I do love the therapists and some of the activities, I don’t want to be there any longer than I already have been. I’m ready to focus on school instead.

Originally I was supposed to attend full IOP this Thursday and R would let me know on Monday what the plan would be. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I’m not at all happy with this arrangement. I cried and felt generally terrible upon hearing the news.

I decided that yesterday I would allow myself to wallow. I felt all of the negative emotions that came up – guilt/shame, frustration, fear, hopelessness, a little anger, sadness. I didn’t try to push them down. At some points I felt genuinely sorry for myself. It honestly was a bit miserable. As hard as that was, I believe it definitely benefited me. I got out those feelings in a more healthy way. I didn’t focus on acceptance, which may seem a little counterproductive.

Today, I will attempt to end the wallowing, rationalizing, and planning about how I will get myself out of IOP for the next 2.5 weeks. As my best friend said, arguing against it may result in my team feeling I’m not in a good enough place to continue in this level of care. I really can’t have that happen. (side note: any other form of treatment absolutely will not work with my schedule)

Today, I will work on acceptance. I want to go into tomorrow with the best possible attitude. If I’m going to be forced into IOP, I want to actually gain something from the experience. We’ll see how that goes considering how stubborn I can be (and how loud Ed is now).

I am not where I wanted to be by the time spring semester started. I am not where my team wants me. I am (probably) not in a stable enough place to handle everything. I need to change this so I can be in the best possible place to thrive and not just survive.

This is obviously not the update I wanted to make, but it’s where I am. This won’t be where I am going to stay.

The Cracked Pot

I would like to introduce you to my new roommate, Simon. Yes, I named my plant. I really like him so I clearly had to 😊

Simon has a special story to go along with him. It started on Monday when we went during experiential to pick out succulents. I really like the way this type looked and apparently it can also flower. We worked on the second half of the project yesterday.

If you look at the pot he’s in, you’ll notice that it looks cracked. We made them like this to represent ourselves in a way. K read us the following story and then we talked about what our cracks were.

A water bearer in India had two large pots, each hung on the end of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots was perfectly made and never leaked. The other pot had a crack in it and by the time the water bearer reached his master’s house it had leaked much of it’s water and was only half full.

For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to his master’s house. Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.

After two years of what it perceived to be a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “I am ashamed of myself, and I want to apologize to you.” “Why?” asked the bearer. “What are you ashamed of?” “I have been able, for these past two years, to deliver only half my load because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your master’s house. Because of my flaws, you have to do all of this work, and you don’t get full value from your efforts,” the pot said.

The water bearer felt sorry for the old cracked pot, and in his compassion he said, “As we return to the master’s house, I want you to notice the beautiful flowers along the path.”

Indeed, as they went up the hill, the old cracked pot took notice of the sun warming the beautiful wild flowers on the side of the path, and this cheered it some. But at the end of the trail, it still felt bad because it had leaked out half its load, and so again the pot apologized to the bearer for its failure.

The bearer said to the pot, “Did you notice that there were flowers only on your side of your path, but not on the other pot’s side? That’s because I have always known about your flaw, and I took advantage of it. I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk back from the stream, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate my master’s table. Without you being just the way you are, he would not have this beauty to grace his house.”

I love this story and what it can teach us. It allowed me to look at some of my qualities that may be seen as cracks or weaknesses but can actually create goodness in my life and the lives of others. I am very stubborn, which can definitely be a bad thing if you’re my therapist and I really don’t want to do something, but I can also use it to pursue my goals no matter what. My eating disorder and mental health are struggles I never would have wished upon my worst enemy. Without them, I wouldn’t have a story to share, a drive to promote awareness, or a level of compassion and empathy that can only come from someone who has lived through very hard things. Being a perfectionist means I am hyperaware of how I do every little thing and that if it isn’t perfect, I can’t even consider it good. Dr. C often tells me she’s glad I have the detail-oriented traits because it will truly take me far in nursing.

I want to set an intention to embrace these flaws more. I am broken, but beautiful. So are you ❤

What are some of your cracks and how could you embrace them?

 

Is this relapse? Plus treatment lately and a new plan of action

*I will do my best, as always, to keep anything I believe is triggering out of this post; however, I want to put a warning for the general behaviors and thought patterns that will be mentioned. There are no numbers or specifics ahead*

So.. I don’t want to be writing this post, but then again does anyone? Is it everyone’s dream to slip back into something that’s nearly taken everything from them multiple times?

I don’t see this as so bad.. but I have been in denial before. The signs are there, but I haven’t been able to admit it yet. Instead I’ll write about it here.

  • The number of exchanges I’ve had is making K and R concerned. It’s below a percentage of my CFD mealplan that’s just not okay with them.
  • It’s scarier to eat the amount of food I normally do and the maximum has been lowered. This goes along with the above.
  • Other than when I’m at home (and even then, truly) I eat the same things over and over. I actually at the same protein for 4 meals in a row this weekend/yesterday… so that’s a pretty good explanation of where I’m at.
  • The possibility of a higher level of care has been mentioned more than once. I hate that. Bring on the guilt/shame…
  • I am hungry. I know this sounds weird to determine how well I’m doing, but I haven’t had hunger unless I’ve restricted since this summer.
  • Going along with the hunger, I feel full much faster than before. This has to do with the amount of food my body is used to which is much smaller than before.
  • Some physical symptoms have returned or worsened: feeling cold, hair falling out, dry skin, dizziness, headaches, weakness. I also have a hard time with concentration and thinking in general.
  • I’ve always loved yoga, BUT it may be getting out of hand at this point. The intensity has increased as well as the amount. My team isn’t happy about it and I see Dr. C this week so I’ll know of any changes then.
  • My weight is down. This is not an indication for everyone. For me, it is. Once my weight gets to a certain range, I end up in treatment. Note: this weight range is well above underweight, just proof that you don’t need to be a low BMI to be sick enough for a higher level of care. If it continues I know somehow I won’t make it outpatient. Still, I have a certain “healthy” goal for myself, so I’m stuck and Ed is enjoying this decline.
  • Many (most?) of my waking hours are controlled by ED thoughts. They’re in the background always. R once told me you can have close to 12 hours of disordered thoughts per day and I would say I’m getting there.
  • Rigidity is getting worse. I have to do things exactly the same to feel in control. This extends to everything from specific exchanges per day to amount of exercise.
  • The last time I ate out was on Thanksgiving and I felt like I was going to die just by going there. I was intent on skipping church 2 weeks ago because my parents wanted to do lunch out. I faked sick until they finally decided against going.
  • Once again, I am staying in my room more and more, I haven’t even gone to the library to study or something just to be somewhere else. I also have skipped all floor dinners and eat alone too. I was already pretty isolated before but it just gets worse when I’m more into the ED.
  • Rationalizing is my current superpower. It’s okay I skipped X because it’s close to X meal. This was just one bad day. A little weight loss is fine. I can find an excuse for anything and everything.
  • Spending time at home brings lying, manipulation, and lots of sneaking around. I don’t want my parents to know what’s going on. The idea of having to eat more there is terrifying, so instead I find ways around that.

I don’t know exactly what to do right now, but something does need to change. My future is on the line now. It isn’t like Fall 2015 where I could take off a semester for treatment. I’ve not yet come to terms with all of this. What I do know (and don’t want to admit) is that this is relapse. It isn’t just “not doing well” or “struggling some.” It’s time for me to get back to a stable point where I can start spring semester in the best health possible.


 

I’ve had 2 very hard days of treatment. Thursday was a little bit of a wake up call. R had some no BS words for me. On my red, yellow, green, and in between scale, she believes I am now firmly planted in the red. This means full relapse. I do have one category after red, which is when treatment becomes necessary and nonnegotiable. She also said I cannot stay here, especially with the real semester starting so soon. After this we talked about what my options are currently. I ended up deciding to step up groups on the two days each week I am already there. I don’t fully want this or believe I fully need it, but I’m agreeing because waiting will only make things worse. Spring semester is coming fast. I have to be stable. The only real goal she gave was to increase by 1 exchange until Monday and then add another exchange. That didn’t really happen..

Yesterday was rough. I knew it would be going in. I had no doubt that there would be difficult conversations and possible ultimatums. I wanted to tell myself this wouldn’t happen, though. I wanted to prove to my team that I didn’t need the extra support. That didn’t work one bit.

First, I met with R for lunch and therapy. I barely had the right amount of exchanges for the meal and had to many Ed thoughts to finish. In IOP I would have been given a supplement. Here, she couldn’t force me but reminded me of that fact anyways. She was concerned with my exercise. Her emphasis on weight is that it’s not the only thing they are considering. I know this logically, I just don’t believe it. Unfortunately, she will also be contacting Dr. C so she’s in the loop about my treatment plan and struggles. The message she tried to instill in me was needing to trust my treatment team. I absolutely agree here, especially with K. Why would I ever listen to someone if all I see if them lying? I’ve got to work through these Ed thoughts that tell me otherwise.

K and I met right after. I really liked a metaphor she used. If you imagine a raft in a river, it will continue floating down the river unless you do something about it. You can paddle slowly and stay in place, or work really hard to swim up the river. Recovery is like that. Without the hard work, you aren’t going to make it. She was not happy with my weight or the way that I keep rationalizing/arguing that it’s okay. I was pretty surprised to hear that, in her opinion, if I drop much more I could be put inpatient (or residential). My immediate reaction was huge disbelief. I still don’t get that at all, especially if it were inpatient. Like I’ve heard (and hated) before, my healthy weight for my body probably doesn’t fall here. It’s a bad sign if the only way I can maintain it is by doing what I am now. Another interesting point she made about weight is that she would never want me to continue gaining. Sometimes that’s all I have believed about dietitian’s goals for me. I need to bring up my exchanges, and even though it isn’t much I feel hopeless/fearful/disgusted about the increase. Like I’ve heard a lot lately, she ended with reminding me that I cannot survive here, at least not for long.

After both appointments I joined back into the group one of my favorite activity therapists I have ever met was running.  I’ll call her K-AT here to distinguish between her and my dietitian. She’s known me for even longer than R, ever since my first FV days. The other two girls left the room for about five minutes, and she took that opportunity to have a little heart-to-heart. The first thing she did was ask me what I am doing here. I knew exactly what she meant. Honestly, I don’t really know. It seems like It’s been getting worse for a long time but also all at once. She fully believes in me and said that I can turn this around, I have it within me, and I need to remember that I am going to be a nurse. She reminded me that I am a child of God and so loved, needed, a masterpiece, and fearfully and wonderfully made.Another thing I really appreciated was that she challenged my thoughts about treatment being a waste if I just ended back here again. Despite all of the encouragement, I felt like she was almost disappointed. It was a look that I saw before, right when I decided to go to residential. I don’t think she truly is judging me or anything. My guess is that’s just her concern shining through. Our conversation started the tears. I haven’t cried in therapy since summer when my grandpa died. It feels raw and vulnerable and a little scary. I’m very thankful I was able to spend that little chunk of time with her. I know that she will also be the best person for me to have lunch with Thursday.


My new plan:

  • Monday and Thursdays will be my treatment days
  • This Thursday I have lunch with K-AT, a group where a girl I was in IOP this summer is coming to talk about her strength in recovery, therapy with R, then group therapy and art.
  • Monday is lunch with K, therapy with R, then joining in for all groups of the day. I told her yesterday to make me supplement if I don’t finish, since that would happen if I did it in group lunch. That was the brave thing to say and I have a feeling it may happen..
  • Next Thursday is my first group lunch (not excited/totally freaked out) and the full day of IOP minus therapy
  • Up until the semester starts, I’ll continue with this schedule. After that, I have Thursday’s free. It may be a full treatment day, but nothing has been talked about yet.
  • Basically I’m doing IOP two days a week without calling it IOP and being pulled out for therapy/dietitian. This means no switching to the IOP dietitian though hallelujah!!

If you made it all the way to here you deserve a medal. It feels really good to write that all out and kinda process it here while doing so. I’ll be sure to update on how everything goes and just overall progress too. This feels different than every time before, so I don’t know what all will happen.

Long, long overdue update.

I really hate not blogging for so long (besides one off topic post), but I also needed a break. I’ve been spending hours upon hours of each day living and breathing treatment. 4.5 weeks in residential, another 3.5 in PHP, and now I’m back at IOP. It’s exhausting, to say the least, but now I am finally ready to explain the last 2+ months.

I left for residential on May 25th. Thankfully, I was able to once again be admitted into the same SoCal location as before. It felt like returning home. Around half the staff is the same, so I immediately received half a dozen hugs. Knowing everything about the program meant a hell of a lot less anxiety compared to last time. At the same time, I had plenty of worries about the other girls. The time before brought some not so great drama filled days, so I desperately wanted to avoid that. I was blessed with 5 of the most amazing women I have ever met. They made the experience better than I imagined. More importantly, though, was the staff and what happened because of them. My therapist was a perfect match. She gave me the confidence and safe space to speak about the most shameful memories and past that I’ve never talked about before. She listened and believed me. She comforted me, inspired me, pushed me, and supported me. I could not be more grateful, so I still update her now. One counselor in particular was a complete blessing to me. She’s a strong Christian and compassion just oozed out of her. I also shared some of the same things I did with my counselor, and actually with her first. There are about a million more things I want to write about regarding resi, but I’ll save that for another post (or 20 🙂 ). For now, I’ll just end with the fact that I learned more than I thought possible. I knew I would change, but I guess I just didn’t expect it as much as I should have.

I discharged from CFD on June 26th. I panicked when I first found out the date around 10 days prior. Suddenly, going home was actually on the radar. An immense fear of the same environment came over me. I felt stronger, but not enough to handle everything so soon. We had always planned on just starting IOP three days a week after. That Monday before I brought up the idea of heading to ERC’s Chicago PHP program. It was a huge risk to go there, but ultimately it’s what was best. After spending under a day and a half at home, I was off to Chicago, with the support of my treatment teams from CFD and home.

I struggled immediately after admitting to ERC. The program was completely different than CFD: three times the size, therapy just once a week, a new mealplan I hated. Those first almost two weeks were miserable. I had pretty much given up hope of gaining anything. I wasn’t open in the least bit. Something changed in me, and suddenly I wanted to work hard again. I took notes and participated and challenged my ED 24/7. I realized that the chance to come was a privilege. I could have been home, but instead I worked hard to get more treatment. My original plan was just under 3 weeks of time. I used money as the main factor in why I couldn’t stay. The team didn’t buy it, and offered financial help to keep me longer. I accepted. I ended up getting more out of the last 2ish weeks there than I imagined. I settled in, made friends, worked hard. I again am grateful for the opportunity to stepdown instead of coming straight home. I left the 24th with even more growth under my belt.

I started IOP the day after my discharge. Now I’m there twice a week for the full day and therapy 2 days. It’s been almost two weeks and I’m mostly used to being home. This certainly isn’t easy. Adjustments aren’t my favorite, and here I am with some huge ones. I am just beginning to mourn leaving treatment. I am “treatment sick” terribly. I miss it all: the support, staff, girls, safety, weather, adventure, challenges, essentially just about everything. This may be the hardest part now. I am figuring out how to do it (mostly) on my own. I want this. I need this. I will put all that I’m able so I can finally live.

It’s just over 4 weeks until nursing begins. This last bit of summer needs to have the same amount of effort as the first 10 weeks. My life, my future, and my freedom depends on it. Spending all of summer in treatment wasn’t anywhere close to what I had hoped going into it, but this has given me a fighting chance and a will to live. I am blessed.