Tag Archives: friends

3 Years

Today is kind of a weird anniversary for me. I was scrolling through TimeHop this morning (people still use this app right?) when I came across a post from 3 years ago today. I left for treatment for an eating disorder/self-injury that day. I remember (vaguely, however) being terrified to go out there and have all my vices of coping and not feeling stripped away from me. I was incapable of feeling anything besides numb. There were no plans for a future in my mind, no hope of things ever not feeling as if though they weren’t going to get better. All I remember is being exhausted 24/7; emotionally and physically.

I was vulnerable to the voices in my head telling me that if I only lost a little more weight I’d be happy, I’d achieve that goal of wanting to disappear, to live a life unnoticed. Only the thing is, the more I tried to disappear the more I stood out. That’s where the lies came in. I lived a life of lying, skirting around the truth that I was slowly killing myself. My closest friends would ask what I was doing to lose the weight I had, or if I was eating. I didn’t exactly lie to them, but I wasn’t telling the whole story. I was simply working out daily and watching what I did eat (although a piece of toast with a very miniscule amount of peanut butter isn’t exactly eating). I hid my eating disorder so well and didn’t disclose information about it that my therapist I was seeing at the time didn’t even catch on to what was going on with me (which led to a lot of misdiagnoses, bipolar disorder and borderline personality disorder) until a month or so before I was sent to treatment.

All these memories came back when I saw those posts from TimeHop this morning. It’s still kind of mind blowing to me that it was 3 years ago, because it honestly feels like it was yesterday. I have come such a long way in my life since going to treatment.

I feel content with my life and where it’s going. I’m now a senior in undergrad with a pretty killer GPA. I’m graduating with research honors next May and hopefully will be going off to grad school after that. Yes I still struggle with my weight, appearance and eating disorder thoughts sometimes but I don’t let them consume me anymore. I have so much to offer the world (that didn’t sound conceded did it?) and after years of struggling, have a pretty good sense as to who I am. The areas of my life which I lost to my eating disorder and mental health struggles, I have either gained back or am working on gaining back. There’s relationships I’m hoping to still amend and the friends I still do have I appreciate them and no longer take them for granted.

There is so much that I have gained over the past 3 years, that it’s incredible to think about how my life has changed for the better. The road here absolutely sucked and was painful. One psychiatric hospital stay, a month in inpatient treatment and a year in outpatient treatment (which sucked more than the hospital or treatment center) are now on my track record. I hated the things that beginning recovery entailed, but if I got my life back in a better way than I could have imagined, I guess I’ll take it.

So today is the anniversary of the day I began the long journey of getting my life back. It’s been almost 2 years since I’ve last self-injured which is huge after engaging in it for 10 years. Being in recovery from an eating disorder is something I feel like I’ll always have to deal with. Every day I have to make choices and check in with myself some days to make sure I’m going down the right path because it is so easy for my emotions to take over and run the course of my life. But I genuinely love my life right now, and I’m so glad I am still alive to have these experiences.


Blasts From the Past

I keep having these dreams where those people who walked out of my life when things got tough were back in my life. We’re laughing and doing all of the things we used to do when we were close. It’s such a strange feeling when I wake up from said dreams, because all of these emotions come flooding back, but the strongest one of all is anger.

A good friend of mine reminded me of a quote this past week that said something to the effect of the people we once loved are the ones we hate the most. I never thought I would hate these people as much as I do, and the conflicting thing about this is that if they ever called me up or texted me when they were in trouble I wouldn’t hesitate to talk to them.

I’m a pretty forgiving person when it comes to friends. I try not to hold grudges because being alone isn’t something I’m good at handling. There have been countless times where I gave people chance after chance, even when they continued to let me down and hurt me.

It’s like my past friendships are coming back into my head, and I’m not all too sure what this means. Do I miss them? More than I would like to admit sometimes. Do I have a lot of resentment? You betcha. But I think what makes these dreams mess with my head is the fact that I would still give anything to have them be an important part of my life.

They say the past isn’t something we can change, which is hard because I feel almost like it’s coming back to bite me. I wish I could change; ever since these dreams have been happening (almost nightly), it’s brought up all of the things I did and said when these people were in my life. How I took their friendship for granted, how I pushed them just enough away that they didn’t have full access to what I was going through but were still in my life. How I felt/feel abandoned and betrayed by them and how they decided that I wasn’t worthy of their friendship any longer because what I was going through was too much for them to deal with.

Yet with these blasts from the past, I’ve learned just how far I’ve come. I went from being broken and feeling hopeless of ever changing, to confident and hopeful for my future. I’ve become more cautious about who I let in and who I need to set boundaries with. I’ve learned how to effectively deal with conflict and use those ever so lovely interpersonal effectiveness skills often. I’m more assertive and less of a doormat; and to top it all off: I’m more mature and have a sense of who I am for the first time in my life.

These dreams have seemed like a curse for the past few weeks. My mind has been working on overdrive to try and analyze what this means and what the emotions are that they bring up. Yet I’m realizing now, the more I work through these brought up issues, that they’re also a blessing. It made me realize that who I am now is not who I was back then.

Every person from your past lives as a shadow in your mind. Good or bad, they all helped you write the story of your life, and shaped the person you are today

– Doe Zantamata

The Unknowns

I have never been good at the whole letting my guard down and letting people in. To be honest, my track record with it has been shit and I realized that if you keep a distance nobody can hurt you. Do you want to know how that works out? Not well. I become like this island, where the only thing keeping me company is that ever so familiar swirling darkness. Pain is almost like a friend of mine, or was, I don’t even know any more. All I know, is that pain (depression,anxiety and what have you) is consistent. Yes, it hurts like hell, but when you get accustomed to it always being there, there’s never a let down of it walking out of your life.

Relationships in my life have always been inconsistent. I guess those are the key words for this post: consistent and inconsistent. That guard I talked about is a result of said inconsistent relationships. Not in the romantic sense, but in the more personal sense with friends who I considered myself close with. I love the quote from One Tree Hill that says “people always leave”; I found it to be true and even when I realized it, the pain caused by their absence from my life never alleviated. It was always those who I managed to let my guard down with that ended up leaving, and each time it got harder and harder to not shift the blame inwardly. None of the people this is referring to have come back into my life yet… except for one.

What brings all of this out tonight is my ex-boyfriend. He, like the rest of those I tried letting in, left. It hurt like hell, especially after last time. We were broken up for a few months when I decided I needed to talk to him, because I missed him. That conversation turned into us making plans to catch up. I cancelled my plans I could have had that night, and I was so excited to see him again, but here’s the kicker. He stopped talking to me that whole week. So I asked for an explanation, and he rescheduled, only to once again stop communication with me. I was crushed, I felt not good enough and not wanted. This one I turned inwardly on myself. There had to be something wrong with me for him to lead me on like that.

So imagine my surprise when I received a message from him this week. Of course I couldn’t be mad at him, I didn’t/don’t have the emotional energy to be upset. We have been talking daily since then, and this time he asked if we could meet up some night this week. To be honest, I want to go so badly, but with this time I am not expecting anything. I don’t expect for this night to actually come to pass. Maybe I like being emotionally manipulated, maybe I don’t do well on my own, or maybe subconsciously I am looking for an excuse to spiral downwards. Whatever it is, I don’t know what this is going to be become.

That guard I let down with him is back up. I can’t get myself to reopen my heart to him, because I lost that trust I had for him when he blew me off (yet he continues telling me he misses seeing me). I don’t know if he’s playing me again, and that scares me to death, especially if we do actually meet up and I go right back to those feelings I had for him before.

Not knowing how something is going to turn out was never my thing. I’m a planner and scheduler, so this whole situation is new to me, yet I continue to talk to him all day because the feelings I have for him are coming back.

I’m probably going to regret this in a week or so, but who knows.

Dealing with Loss

You learn so much over the course of your life, but knowing how to deal with and handle death isn’t something we learn. I don’t think anyone gets used to people dying, that they figure out a system as to how to deal, cope and go through the grief process. But if someone has, and you’re reading this, please enlighten us all on how you managed to do it.

What brings this up today is the death of my friend, Heather. I met her when I went to treatment in Arizona when I was 23 and she was one of the people I instantly clicked with. She was in the IOP program they had, so she would come to groups and then go home for the day. I remember one day we were sitting on the patio of the house I was in and she told me how she felt like an outsider because everyone else who was there and in groups were residential, PHP or whatever label the insurance companies used to describe people who were basically inpatient. I being one of them. From then on we began hanging out more, I guess you could say I took her under my wing and we became fast friends. When I went back home to New York, I wasn’t expecting her and I to stay connected, but we did. That’s something they don’t prepare you for in the therapy sessions where they try to prepare you for what’s coming once you’re discharged. Overall, in my opinion, they don’t really prepare you for shit because they don’t know what your life is like back home. But anyways, I got off topic.

About a month ago she posted a picture on Instagram of her in the hospital. I thought maybe she was in because of her eating disorder, but when I shot her a message I found out the real reason. She had blood clots in her lungs, but at the time she told me they were putting her on blood thinners for a year to try and keep them under control. I didn’t know then that that would be one of the last conversations I would have with her.

Yesterday on Facebook I saw friends of her posting messages on her wall, saying how they’ll never forget her and how incredible she was. Doing a little more research I found that she had passed away Thursday. I was shocked.

People aren’t supposed to die at 24 of a pulmonary embolism. She was so full of life, encouraging, real, hysterical and we shared so much in common. We always talked about how if I got into a grad school out there we would find an apartment and move in with each other. How she wanted to come to New York because of the 4 seasons (yeah, I tried talking her out of moving here because she clearly didn’t realize what winter in NY entails). She was my West Coast Twin. We loved the same movies (Titanic), the same music (Frank Sinatra) and the same TV show (Law and Order: Special Victims Unit).

So now with her being gone, I can’t help but to feel sad, and I honestly don’t know how to process this or even deal. When I first heard of her passing, my 1st instinct was to text her. I kept replaying the last time we talked in my head, which was about a week or so ago. We had a conversation about faith, God and the Bible. She was in a place that I am/was. Questioning things, wondering about things the Bible says compared to what the world and todays culture says. Our conversations were always real, and she was one of the best people I ever had in my life.

Over the past 4 months I lost 2 incredible people. The loss of my Grandma still hurts like nothing I’ve ever experienced, and now I’m mourning the loss of my friend. I wish I knew I had a positive thing to say about how I’m not letting this grief over them get me down, but I would be lying. My Grandma’s death was hard enough even though we spent 15 months watching her die, but there’s something about losing Heather that feels like a punch to the stomach. It was unexpected, and maybe it’s because for the first time in my life I am dealing with an unexpected death, and even more so the death of a friend who is 6 months younger than me. That’s the killer part.

There’s no manual on how to handle this. No instruction booklet exists telling you to start at step 1, and by the time you get to step 10 or 20 you’ll feel better.

Anger & Anticipatory Grief

As a lot of you all know, if you’ve been following this blog, I’ve lived with the excruciating pain of something known as anticipatory grief for almost a year and a half. I won’t relive all of the details for you, but if you want to know what exactly I’m talking about when it comes to what happened to my Grandma you can find the posts on my page.

After my Grandma died I felt lost. Yes we all knew it was coming but even with that it’s still hard as hell when it happens. For the past week or two I’ve been thinking a lot about the people I’ve lost over the past year and I’ve come to realize that I was living a life fueled by anger.

All of the things I thought I believed were tested during that time of my life and instead of feeling those emotions I hid a lot behind anger. To sound all clinical and stuff, I was projecting my own disbelief in things like God or a higher power onto those in my life, using friends I held dear to my heart as a scapegoat.

The weird thing about anger and living through a grief process where you’re grieving an eventual loss before it’s happened is that in those moments when you’re hanging onto your last shred of sanity, you don’t realize that almost everything you say or do is an emotional reaction to something nobody can see or help you with. I’m sure if you were to ask those who saw me regularly during this time they would probably tell you I was not the easiest person to get along with. I was pushing a lot of people away who meant a lot to me because being alone was easier than letting people in when there was nothing they could have said or done to give me what I really needed: my Grandma to be ok and back to normal. I blamed God, those who believed in God and were praying and my anger grew and grew.

Now that I’m in a place where I can think more clearly, and the pain I feel now on a daily basis is that of missing my Grandma and still wanting her back, I see the damage my anger caused. To put it in the words of what a Dr. told me a while back. I was angry, I was firing bullets and those who were in my life got hit with the shrapnel. I was always good at anger because as I said previously, feeling anything else besides that when I am going through it makes me uncomfortable and is something I refused to allow myself to sit in and feel. But now that I’m learning how to feel and process my emotions I’m learning that living a life of anger when I was experiencing that anticipatory grief was doing more damage than good.

If I could say anything to those I pushed away over the past 2 years it would be this:

I’m sorry for the things I said or did out of my emotional reactions. Almost none of the things I said were coming from things I actually meant. Did I mean to hurt you? It sounds harsh but yes, I did. It’s almost as if I needed someone else to be in pain with me. For those of you who believe in God, I was projecting my anger that I have towards God onto you because you were tangible and represent everything that was in question at that time. I do believe in God and I am so sorry that I allowed my anger and grief ridden state of mind to dictate the things I said to you all and wrote on here. I was immature, in so much pain and angry but I know it’s no excuse for what happened. I know some of you forgave me, and on the off chance anyone else reads these words I hope maybe one day down the line we can sort things out as well.

When Words Fail

What do you say to someone who’s hurting? Where are those magical words you can say to someone to help them get through something that seems so much bigger than them? For someone who loves to write & use words, not having the words to say is a hard place to be in. This past week a good friend of mine told me they had been struggling and in this current moment they are in a place to receive the help they need.

I remember all last week talking with them and seeing them slide fastly down that slippery slope; it was so hard sitting back and seeing the pain in their eyes, voice and words as we talked via text message. Being on the receiving end of that conversation was an uncomfortable place to be in. Usually I have been the one saying those haunting words, so to hear them coming from another persons mouth was difficult. As the days went on I began seeing so much of my past in them. The way news of something destroyed my life and sent me spiraling downhill I saw happening in my friend and it scared the shit out of me.

All I could do was voice my genuine concern, tell them over and over again I loved them and needed them to stay even though I knew because of the circumstances those words were falling on deaf ears. It wasn’t out of ignorance that they weren’t grasping the truth of my words, and I fully understand that. When you’re falling it’s hard to see the truth and feel anything that resembles love.

A while back in the treatment program I was in we had to do validation letters to those in the group after we each read where we were at in life & recovery. I always found it hard hearing the kind words those in group with me had to say to me, feeling like they were just following the therapists instructions and they didn’t really mean a lot of the shit they said to me. But when it came to reading my letter to the person it was addressed to in group, I meant every fucking word. I had found a community in which I not only belonged, but where I learned to love others in a real way. I think that’s what happens when you’re vulnerable with people, you begin developing a love for the others in the room that nobody can really explain. But I digress.

I know a lot of my friends have a hard time accepting the fact that compliments are real & heartfelt. So last week when I was voicing my concern, I’m not all too sure my friend was believing it. Sunday I’m going to visit them and I have a little gift for them. I tried writing a letter again; it’s always been easier for me to write everything all out than speaking the words. In that letter I write about how much I need them to stay alive & be in my life, how much I love them and care about our friendship. It’s all of the words I had in my heart at the moment, and I know those words can’t fix anything, but I just need them to hear it.

In reality I know there will never be any sentence of words strung together that will be able to reach into a persons heart & remove all of their pain & kill the demons; but I can only hope that if I continue using my words to express how important someone is to me that the words will stick in the back of their minds & when needed they can pull them out of the box inside of their mind & remember them.

Anticipatory Grief

For 1 year now I’ve been experiencing what psychologists would call anticipatory grief. On the website abouthealth.com they give a pretty simple definition of what exactly anticipatory grief is; they say “ Anticipatory grief is the normal mourning a person feels when he is anticipating the death of a loved one. Anticipatory grief includes sadness, concern for the dying person, preparing for the death, and adjusting to changes caused by the death   (http://dying.about.com/od/glossary/g/anticipat_grief.htm).

Every day for a year this is what I’ve been living with. My Grandma got sick in December 2013 with a stroke and heart attack; pretty much removing any semblance of who she was my whole life. An independent 86 year old woman turned into a vegetable, unable to talk. The memories of walking in her house that night and finding her laying there, face almost blue from the dangerously high blood pressure levels, will never leave my mind. I suffered from intense flashbacks for nearly 6 months after; I’d find myself reliving the entire night in great detail over and over and over again.

A few months ago I got to a point where I was able to accept that the woman who played a major role in raising me, and who I always looked up to as a role model/influence, was no longer here and not coming back. Thank god for therapy, because I wouldn’t be able to work through that on my own. But yesterday, all of this changed. My Grandma turned 88 on Wednesday, and the day after everything in me and my family’s life changed again..

7:30 in the morning my home phone rang, and I saw on the caller id it was the nursing home. My heart always stops for a second whenever I hear the phone ring, but yesterday as I saw the name pop up I knew something wasn’t right. Her nurse practitioner was on the other side telling me how my Grandma has pneumonia in both lungs now, a fever that keeps going up and down throughout the day and how they don’t think she’s going to make it out of it this time. I felt my whole body shake as she asked me what my mom’s plan was in this case; leave her at the nursing home and keep her comfortable, or send her to the hospital. I didn’t know, but I wasn’t the one they should be talking to so I called my mom and she called them.

Enter in the anticipatory grief all over again. Now, all we can do is wait. I went to the nursing home after class yesterday and spent time with her. I refuse to have regrets this time. My Grandma means the world to me and I would do anything in my power to keep her here with me, but at the same time I want this all to be over. Her quality of life is none, she spends all day in bed because she’s unable to move and seeing her like that isn’t who she is.

Nobody teaches you how to cope with this type of grief, but I’m thankful I’m not alone. I have some of the best friends with me now that support me and are here for me. But that doesn’t stop the fact I’m starting to grieve and nothing has happened yet.

Regret and Recovery

I’m living with every step. I can’t live with regret. The past is the past. I’m not worried about it. I can’t change it. I can’t fix it. It is what it is. I’m just living.
-Ryan Sheckler

I’ve been thinking a lot about the person I have been over the past few years and all of the things I’ve done that unbeknownst to me removed the trust people, especially my parents, had in me. Now that I’m working my way back to a healthy, well balanced life of recovery I’m finding areas in which my trust still needs to be gained back; and the majority of those areas circle around food.

There are so many moments where I mention I’m not all too hungry for a meal or that I want to wait a bit to eat as to let myself feel that hunger because I still cannot justify eating when I don’t feel hungry. I never really noticed it before, maybe because I was in treatment and my mother didn’t have to worry that I wouldn’t eat, but lately when I talk to her about food I notice this look of worry and concern as if to say “I don’t care if you’re not hungry, you’re eating. I don’t want you getting sick again”.

It wasn’t until a couple of days ago where I realized I was lacking trust when it came to eating dinner, and it was discouraging to say the least. All I can think of doing is to continue eating the meals my mother says we’re eating (even though I’m pretty sure she doesn’t eat a lot during the day which I still don’t see as fair but I’m a grown ass adult and I can’t base my life and actions on those of others… still a big struggle of mine, but whatever). I want to make another goal of mine for this year to work on gaining that trust back.

I’m finding that when you really start working on yourself all of these moments from the past when you weren’t thinking straight come back to the surface; and it’s in those moments I’m also learning that you need to face them head on. I regret losing the trust of others, and seeing that as them pushing me away and out of their life. Now, I don’t believe they were pushing me away, I think they just distanced themselves and watched as I continued to ride out the shit storm of an eating disorder and depression and letting me get to a point where I couldn’t continue living the way I was. I think it’s that distance that allows us in our sickness to make our own choices and because loved ones know that we won’t listen to heed their warnings that all they can do is sit back and hope we don’t hit rock bottom and drown in our illness before they can reach us again.

I regret not listening to my friends and family and even more so I regret worrying the shit out of my Grandma. I love her to pieces and am so blessed that I have such a close relationship with her. I remember a couple of weeks before I went into residential I was down at her house spending time with her and she looked at me and flat out asked me if I was losing a lot of weight. I remember the worried look on her face as she gave me a glance and as I lied to her face with my classic “yeah I am. I’ve just been working out and eating a little less than I was before”. I regret that moment more than anything because I lied to the one person I love to death. She played a big part in raising me and too see me deteriorating must have been fucking terrifying for her.

Recovery comes with a lot of regrets about the past but like they say, all you can do is learn from them and better who you are in the present.

What You Can’t See From the Bottom

I’ve hit rock bottom a few times in my life with mental illness stuff and it’s never pretty or glamorous like the movies or television shows have it appear to be. Rock bottom isn’t a place I would wish on anyone because it removes any and all rationale or clarity from your life. It removes the ability to think rationally and the entire world around you becomes black and white, this or that. It’s terrifying, heartbreaking and the most lonely of states one could ever be in. I was thinking a lot about the times I’ve hit this rock bottom, and I realized that there are things you cannot see when you’re there lying on the floor with the surface of that pit millions of miles away.

1. You Can’t Feel Love.

Do you know how many times I would think to myself that nobody loved me? A lot. Do you know how many times that was actually true? None. When you’re in the pit the ability to feel loved is nearly impossible. People say they love you and they don’t want you to hurt yourself, but with everything in you, you can’t accept that as truth. So many times I’ve heard something along the lines of “I love you and I don’t want to see you hurt yourself” but I never once believed it. Maybe it’s because I was so far down and that because all self-love and respect towards myself was gone, I thought there was no way others could love me. They didn’t know who I was, and the “lies” of being told I was worthy of life and recovery and all of these positive things that were said to me about who I was all seemed to be lies because I didn’t feel that way about myself.

It took me getting admitted into a psychiatric hospital to feel a shred of love, and it was the love of my dad that I never even knew existed that I finally felt for the first time. I’ll never forget the petrified look on his face as he and my mom walked in to that check in station; he looked so scared I thought he was going to either cry or shit his pants. Up until that point he didn’t know of the cutting, the impending eating disorder or the fact that I was suicidal and was on the verge of killing myself (which obviously landed me in that place in the first place). But after that first or second visit I’ll never forget how he wrapped his arms around me, squeezing me so tightly that I was certain I was going to pop, and with the most sincere voice I’ve ever heard him have tell me he loves me. My new combo of meds were making me see/ feel clearer, and I knew for the first time in my life he meant what he was saying to me.

2. You Don’t Know Hope.

Not having hope is terrifying, at least for me it is. I remember the few times I had a plan to commit suicide that feeling of hope was only a dream. I could see the end of my life, and I was certain there was no way out of that endless depression. Days on end I’d walk around feeling empty inside and wondering why this is the best my life would ever be. Not even with depression but with my eating disorder as well. I’d try and envision my life in recovery and without it, but all I could see was the present moment. That hope of a better life didn’t seem real. Being so entwined in something whether it’s mental illness or an addiction or an eating disorder fucks with your mind and picturing a life without any of it seems like a fairy tale. When hope isn’t an arms length away, it feels like it will never happen.

3. Help is Seen as a Threat.

Being propositioned with treatment a couple of years ago for my anorexia seemed like a threat. I was so numb to everything and on the verge of landing in a hospital any ways from medical complications that when I was told about getting help I felt threatened. It was help and hope, but I was so far down in that hole that I couldn’t see it. Instead, I saw it as a threat or punishment. My eating disorder was mine and mine alone, I was good at it, and in a weird way it separated me from everyone else. I was so blind that I saw my constant losing weight and excessive hours spent at the gym as an accomplishment. People would bitch about how hard it was to lose weight, and I would sit back in a sick way and think “but look at me! I’m clearly finally doing something right!”

Having that taken away from me was hell. I would get so pissed off when my friends and mentor (of the time) would talk to me and voice their concern about my deteriorating appearance. I felt like they wanted me to stop finally being good at something and that in a fucked up sense they were jealous. I know, this is all so shallow but at the time it was important to me. Concerned talk after concerned talk only seemed like daggers being thrown at my bubble.

I would never wish rock bottom on anyone. It turns you into someone you’re not and places such strong blinders on you that it’s nearly impossible to admit that you’re on your way to being 6 feet under the ground. I don’t know exactly how to end this, so I guess I’ll just say this:

When you can’t feel hope or love and feel like there’s no way out of your mental illness, addiction or whatever is controlling your life and dragging you down into the depths, when loved ones and friends talk, just listen. Don’t react in the moment, listen. Let their words at least settle in your ears for a moment.

Being in Your Life

2015 is turning out to be an incredible year! Seriously, things keep going the right way and I am feeling so good about my life. The biggest thing to happen to me thus far has been my discharge from outpatient treatment. I was excited on my last day of treatment but scared all at the same time. Since October 2013 my life had revolved around treatment and now that it wasn’t going to, I didn’t really know what to expect.

The whole time in treatment they talk about being in your life, and to be honest I didn’t really know what that meant for me. Treatment was my life, and figuring out life outside of there never really seemed possible or like it was going to happen. But I had a breakthrough of a therapy session where the director of the program (also someone who I look up to and can only hope to be like in a professional sense one day) came in and discussed my future in the program and my future with my eating disorder. I was stuck at the time, feeling hopeless and wanting to give up. I don’t remember what she said to me, but I do remember breaking down and crying in that session (something that is a miracle on its own).

Ever since then, something that I don’t even know what it is clicked I’ve been slowly working my way further into recovery & more into my life. What does that mean exactly?

I’m more able to concentrate on school

I go out on weekends with my friends

I am genuinely more optimistic towards the future

But being in your life is much more than that. I know I’ve posted about it before but now that I’m in my life without the overbearing safety net of treatment 3 days a week, I realize I can handle more of what life throws at me than I once would have been able to. Yet there’s still a lot that scares me about this new life of mine. Going out to bars with my friends is a blast, and having a social life is fucking incredible, but I realized I’m still needing to work on recovery as a part of my new life. I was faced with a food challenge this past weekend when I went out, and in the moment handled it like a fucking champion; but the next day I didn’t know what to do about my meals (I was at Denny’s at 3am and had to eat a meal, because that’s what normal people do and I didn’t want my friends to think I was still sick) so I ended up restricting a little and using laxatives. So that part of my life still needs a shit ton of work, but like I said I’m feeling so incredible being out of treatment.

For me, I’ve figured out that being in my life means being a student, a friend, a daughter; more than it means being an eating disorder & a patient.