I swore to myself that this was not going to happen again. I told myself that last time was going to be the last time. Never again was I ever going to return to treatment. Never again was I going to go back to the intensive outpatient program. Never again was I going to be in a place where that was a necessity. Yet, here I am. Starting treatment on Tuesday, the day of my 22nd birthday.
Let me go back a bit to explain how this all happened. In September I started school again, only this time I was committed to do well and succeed. Unfortunately, as the way my life always goes, something happened. I got sick again. I developed a status migraine that stayed every day for 4 months. I was incapacitated. I was in the hospital constantly, I saw doctors, neurologists, and finally in December a doctor in Emergency gave me a miracle drug that worked. The only thing was that all these ER visits traumatized me. Once they almost killed me. My heart rate before I passed out had gotten to the low 40s and my blood pressure had plummeted. Another time, my last visit, I was in so much pain I thought I would tear my head off. They had lost my file even though I was a Level 2U (urgent), basically I wasn’t dying but I needed to be seen immediately and I waited for almost 2.5 hours. The next morning they forgot my medication and when I asked about it they were just like “fuck we forgot”. I still have anxiety attacks thinking about it.
During this time, I was constantly nauseated, my head ready to implode, stomach pains, and sounds killed me, but lights were even worse. I started losing weight. I was stressed, never wanted to eat, and traumatized. The weight loss started in October, the month approaching my one year anniversary of being assaulted and it got worse. I didn’t lose that much, but I lost enough for people to be concerned and offer the intensive outpatient again to make sure I didn’t lose any more weight. I was told that my migraines were perpetuated by malnutrition and not eating. It hit me that I was in a Catch-22; I could be in excruciating pain or I could eat and have my eating disorder reek havoc on my life. It was at this time that I considered doing the day program again.
This semester wasn’t so bad health wise, but I decided that there was no way that I was going to be able to live my life and succeed with this horrible illness dictating my every move. Sure I only had two classes, but I was also dealing with my eating disorder. It was a full time job, which I’m sure many of you know. I had the attention span of a dog in a room with a bone and a squirrel. I could not focus enough to study very well. I didn’t end up doing very well.
I spoke to my doctor in March who spoke to my psychiatrist on my behalf about returning to program this summer. It was agreed that it was a good idea. By this time, I had regained a bit of the weight I lost – some in muscle mass from dancing and the rest not. It was bothering me a lot. I saw it in my waist, but when I started seeing it in my face I freaked out. The rest of my body I could hide, but you can’t hide from your face. Every time I looked in the mirror it was a slap in the face. I hate that feeling. I hate not believing my boyfriend when he tells me I’m beautiful, sexy or fine. None of that rings true to me and therefore my brain classifies it as false – a lie.
Here I am now, determined for this to be the last time this happens. Determined to get better because I have things I want to do with my life. Things I want to excel in. Schools I want to get into. I need to be able to do my best and to concentrate. I need to be well, for myself, my future and for the people around me. It’s time that I kick this eating disorder out of my life. Obviously easier said than done, but I am extremely determined to do my best.
Wish me luck my lovelies. I will keep you all updated. ❤