"My recovery must come first so everything I love in life does not have to come last."
Graduating university with crippling anxiety and a co-existing debilitating eating disorder is one of my greatest and bravest accomplishments to-date.
I'd like to say that the moment that I got out of the hospital, recovery from that point on was smooth sailing.
But, that's not reality.
Recovery is hard. And messy. And a daily choice.
At this point, I didn't know what would make me want to choose recovery. I loved my family, my job, school, and my work, but for some reason, something inside still resented myself. My friends and family wanted recovery for me more than I did. It would never stick long-term, I thought.
All of the affirmations that I had learned during treatment, which I once viewed as bullshit became my lifelines.
Some things I can't change. I need to become familiar with my triggers and actively avoid them. I need to stop responding to negative energy. For once in my life I needed to allow myself to be selfish, and focus only on me. I needed to be surrounded by positive and supportive people.
I was vulnerable and completely succeptible to triggers. At this point, everything triggered me.
There could be no mention of numbers, calories, diets, food, workout plans, exercise, I couldn't wear workout clothes, or look at anyone who was, I couldn't drive down Bayshore Blvd. and see all of the people running, without the urge to jump out of my passenger side window and run alongside them. I couldn't have anyone comment on my food or my body, whether good or bad, I didn't want to be asked if I was working out or moving my body at all. I didn't want sympathy. I couldn't be in the grocery store. I couldn't eat any of the foods that I had used to punish my body during the height of my disorder and the depths of restriction. I couldn't look at other people's carts at the grocery store, without returning everything in mine, and opting for healthier options. I couldn't see anyone who was thinner than me without stressing out. I couldn't talk about my rollercoaster brain: one day devout to recovery, the other wanting to cut everyone out of my life who might promote my recovery.
The worst parts about recovery for me were:
1) Accepting the fact that I couldn't exercise:
I tried. I have been active my whole life, just for fun. Soccer, basketball, track, boxing, biking, swimming, running, walking. I hopped on my bike, feeling rebellious for going against my mom and doctor's wishes. I used to ride 20 miles no problem, now, I could barely complete a mile. So I walked. I aimed for the 10,000 steps per day. Extreme hunger kicked in. My body didn't want to let go of anymore weight, and if I exercised, I had to eat double the calories to make up for what I burned. It made more sense to skip it entirely. It was hard enough to hit my calorie goal as it was.
2) Extreme Hunger:
This was the most physically, mentally and emotionally challenging part of recovery next to the weight returning. Extreme hunger is a common symptom for those recovering from any eating disorder or period of calorie restriction. With extreme hunger it is normal to consume between 6,000-10,000 calories in a single day. And boy did I. Even though I knew I needed the calories that I had deprived my body of for so long, I was still fighting it. I was terrified of it. I thought it would never end and I would never be able to stop eating. I wanted to just be normal around food, have a normal portion. I swore now I'd listen to the dietitian and have a protein, carb and fat, and not just a protein and vegetable if it would just go away forever.
3) What do I wear?
My clothes don't fit. But, I know deep down, they were never meant to. I had a panic attack the first time I tried to slip on the size 0 Old Navy boyfriend jeans that were once too big on me, and I couldn't manage to get them over my knees. My regular size is a size 8, but losing the label felt like a loss of control for me. It was the only time I was a size 0 in my life, and probably (and hopefully) the only time I will be again. To avoid future anxiety, I threw away all of the clothes I wore when I was sick, before ever trying them on. All of the child size clothes, all of the crop tops and sleeveless blouses- gone. Why put myself through that when I knew what the outcome would be? My mom took me shopping to buy clothes in my regular size. She was thrilled, and I tried to avoid the mirror, choosing clothes strictly off her opinion and whether or not the high waist promised to conceal my growing belly.
I'd like to say that after being released from the hospital, I never relapsed. But, that would be a lie.
I found myself thinking a lot about my time in the hospital and the routine I had developed there: 7:30 breakfast, 12:30 lunch, 5:00 dinner, group therapy throughout the day, work on homework during breaks, and 9:00 snack and medicine. I found myself missing my routine. I wanted to be back there- but, why?
Having been so numb while I was in the hospital, I was processing the entire experience for the first time. And I felt bad for that girl who was trapped in those four walls- confined to an IV. I felt bad for the girl whose routine became waking up to getting blood drawn and pressure taken, getting shots in the stomach to prevent infection, and offered pills like they were tic tacs. I felt bad for all of the CT scans, echocardiograms, ultrasounds, and X-Rays, where she didn't blink, becoming so indifferent to the process. I didn't know that girl, and I didn't want to be her. Not anymore.
My triggers sometimes still catch me by surprise, though not as often as they used to
Now, I'm better prepared, and the people around me are more aware and quick to call out my behaviors.
I share my story not to gain empathy or sad stares for myself, but I share to raise awareness for the others who struggle. Every man or woman who has struggled with an eating disorder who has ever felt confused or scared or silenced or trapped. I share for the sufferers who feel silenced, out of fear of the consequences of what would happen if they revealed their deepest secret. I share for those who are scared to leave their disorder behind. Like a bad relationship, it's time to quit it. It's time to speak up and be fearless in despite of the threats the demons might make.
This is a new chapter and only you can choose how you want to define it.
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