Scattered as hell, but an update all the same.

Heyyyy, world.

[The above photo is the bumper sticker on the car I now have :-)]

I'm sorry I'm so inconsistent in my entries. I hope over time I'll become more regular at blogging; maybe I'll pick a day of the week or something. I can't believe it's been two months since my last entry!
So I'm planning on this entry being more of an update than on a specific topic, but we'll see if a theme arises.

A lot has happened over the last two months. I've now been in Santa Cruz, in Transitional Living and an Intensive Outpatient Program (called Lotus) for eating disorders for nearly three months. Three months ago, I left the Eating Recovery Center in Denver after a full year of either 24 hour or 12 hour a day care, and came here to start the next chapter of my life. I was nervous but excited - I felt uncertain but more hopeful than I ever had that I could continue to take steps forward into the world, without an eating disorder. That's not to say that I don't still have an eating disorder, because I do - but I'm in recovery. Recovery looks different for everyone. We did an exercise in a group recently where we had to write out the "Green, Yellow and Red" signs - Green being everything is going well in recovery, Yellow being things are tenuous, and Red meaning a full on relapse and that action needs to be taken. We then had to write out our needs for each. We noticed that everyone's Greens, Yellows and Reds were very different. For me at the moment "Green" means binging and purging at most three times every two weeks if that, and struggling with mild restriction but working to actually follow my meal plan, and so on. Green might also for me mean pursuing my education (and I signed up for a GED class, which I will be starting on Tuesday - so three full days from now), engaging socially at least while in program, taking care of basic things I once couldn't like showering and laundry and chores, and so on. There are a lot of Greens, Yellows, and Reds, but the point is that for another person "Green" might mean not using behaviors at all and having no thoughts or urges. It varies. Because for me my current "Green" does include using behaviors (though so much less than ever before), one of my needs for Green was the reminder that this isn't where it ends...when I was in treatment in Denver, and still binging and purging a couple of times a night, I told my dietitian that things were great. I sincerely meant it. I thought that was as good as it could get, for me - bear in mind I had been binging and purging for about 12 hours a night and not eating anything during the day prior to treatment. But she looked at me and smiled a little sadly and said "Sofia, we believe in better for you than this. You've made so much progress, but we believe that you can aim higher. You don't have to settle."
I still need that reminder these days. Because my eating disorder is so much less severe than it used to be, it doesn't feel like a problem anymore - but it is. Firstly, which I was reminded of recently, by using certain behaviors (primarily very mild restriction I've been struggling with for my whole time at Lotus) I'm keeping the door open to the eating disorder. I was reminded of this when recently I experienced a severe shift in my mentality after just two days of restricting a little more intensely - suddenly I wanted to restrict everything, and it took hold so quickly and felt so very powerful. I knew that if I didn't "tell on myself" to my treatment team, I could be in for a very serious relapse. And because I've grown to adore and deeply trust my therapist, Micah, I told her everything in an email. They already knew that something was going on, but she helped me get back on track. For the last few days I have followed my meal plan to the T. I do look forward to the day I can eat what I want when I want, but my dietitian Christina (who I've also grown to trust, most of the time, and really like) says I'm not there yet. And I have to trust them.
I also bought a car, so getting around is much easier. I've been readjusting to driving, as I went the full year without, and that's been scary sometimes but for the most part I'm doing very well and I haven't hit anything or anyone, so there's something! I'm sure it'll come back after a couple of weeks. It's only been a week.
As far as the GED class goes, I am terrified. Which brings me into something else I've mentioned on Facebook - I've strongly suspected for years that I have some sort of learning disability, but because I was always in crisis with the eating disorder or the Bipolar it was never a good time to address it, it was never the priority. I mentioned it to my wonderful psychiatrist, Dr. McGuire, shortly before I left ERC - I literally just said "You know, I think I have something else that we haven't talked about..." and before I could finish my sentence, she said: "ADHD?" I was startled into silence for a moment. She had been suspecting it as well, but because I was leaving so soon didn't want to put me on any new medications.
I started feeling very, very nervous about school. One of my big fears is that I'm incapable of functioning as an adult - and I can see so clearly in retrospect that a lot of this comes from always failing in school (quite literally failing all of my classes since I was a small child) despite feeling that I was intelligent. I felt like there was something wrong with me that couldn't be helped or fixed. So with class coming up, I brought it up again with my new psychiatrist, who wanted me to try school out for a week or two and if it didn't go well we could talk about a non-stimulant medication (obviously because stimulants are appetite suppressants she didn't want to immediately put me on one of those) - but after talking with her, with class coming up so soon, I realized that if I took this class and had serious trouble it would only be reinforcing this very dangerous belief I have that I'm incapable - so I made an appointment with the primary care doctor I've been seeing out here, and I had that appointment today. After a lengthy questionnaire the diagnosis was confirmed, and he was very surprised it hadn't been addressed sooner. So I'm starting on the non-stimulant, and if that doesn't help he's going to talk to my treatment team at Lotus and talk to them about potentially trying a stimulant.
I'm a little nervous my psychiatrist will be mad at me for going to another doctor, but I sincerely feel like I did what I needed to do to get my needs met. She's a little slow on the uptake, as kind as she is, and she said we could "talk about maybe getting me tested". So I went ahead and got myself tested. Anyway, there's some relief in confirming my suspicious; in retrospect it seems to clear to me, I can see its role in so many different areas of my life - school, work, even treatment and socializing.  I really believe that if we can find a medication that helps me that this might significantly change my life for the better, and I so hope so. I'm so scared that it won't, but I so hope so. I guess I just have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst.

All of that aside, let's see...I mentioned my therapist, Micah. She has helped me immensely, and I'm so grateful I have her. I email her almost every night with a summary of the day, and she's actually asked me to do so because I express myself better through writing than in the moment. In therapy I occasionally have something to talk about but most of the time on the spot I forget everything, and my memory is spotty anyway, so it's helpful for both of us. I also find that it's easier to be more honest in my emails than it is in person - I don't ever flat out lie to her, but there are things I'm too afraid to say in person, and so I write them to her and we follow up on them in our sessions when needed. I've worried sometimes that I'm too attached to her, that I shouldn't depend on her or like her as much as I do, but she says my level of attachment is absolutely normal. I don't have many people in my day to day life at the moment outside of treatment, and she's helping me when I'm in this place of "No longer sick, but not yet well" - I'm in limbo, and it's very uncomfortable. I'm having to relearn everything I never learned how to do. I never learned how to live as an adult.

This entry is all over the place, like my brain. Sorry about that, guys. So in general, I work to get through every day. Some days I don't know what to do with myself. Today we had "Mermaid Breakfast" (the Transitional House I'm in is called the "Mermaid House", and three times a week we have a supervised breakfast followed by a life skills group), and then I went to yoga with a friend. Oh, my god, did I hate Vinyasa! I've only ever been to treatment yoga and one restorative yoga class, so this was a wake up call - those yoga people are STRONG! I was shaking throughout the whole class, because while I'm very flexible I am not physically strong. We'll see if I go back. Maybe I should give it a chance, and try it out a few times before I write it off completely. After yoga I went to the doctor's and then had an appointment with the dietitian (my dietitian is out of town this week so I met with the other one) and came up with new meal ideas. I'm slowly learning how to cook, but I don't have much of a variety in what I eat right now, so now I have a few more ideas. I feel impaired when it comes to food - it's all so new. Tomorrow I have a full day off of program, and I'm going to cook salmon with lemon and rosemary, and quinoa and rice and brussel sprouts and asparagus. I'm trying to cook for the week's dinners. Anyway, if any of you have easy meal ideas, please share them! I'd love to hear them. Maybe I'll make a list in this blog.

Well, I'm going to retire soon to watch Parks and Recreation (which I've been binge watching) and then continue re-reading the "Hunger Games". Evening is my favorite time of day, when I can crawl into bed and watch Netflix and read. Love it.

I've also, over the last year or so, developed an even fiercer love for my parents than I have ever felt in my life. I've always loved them dearly, despite all we've been through together, but somehow their growing older is hitting me now more than ever. I feel so privileged and blessed to have the parents that I do. They aren't involved in my treatment at all and never really have been; I think they don't know what to do with it all. But they've never given up on me, and whenever I've chosen to seek help they have supported me. My father is stoic, quiet and very intellectual, and every so often his beautiful big heart comes out and warms me from head to toe. He's the sweetest, most intelligent, wonderful man I've ever met. My mother is also very sharp, and funny - even when she doesn't mean to be. She loves cats, and she loves many people, and she loves me. I've never doubted that. My mother had three miscarriages and a painful surgery in order to finally conceive - and at 40 and 41, my parents had their first child - me. And they have never stopped loving me, despite all I've put them through. I'll write more on this another time, it deserves its own entry. But for now, here's a picture my mom will probably reprimand me for posting, of both of my parents (slightly fried) in Costa Rica. Love you, Mom and Dad. More than you'll ever know.

So that's the end of this incredibly scattered blog entry. Thanks for reading, if you got this far!

We need to talk about weight.

Okay...so generally I choose not to talk or write much about weight/body size, because I feel like that plays into the idea that eating disorders are about weight, which they aren't. I naively assumed that most people with eating disorders who have had them awhile understood this - that, while the obsession still reigns in many of us, people understood that at their core, this is not what eating disorders are about. I thought people, at least people with eating disorders, understood that you can be very ill at any size - emaciated, "average", obese. I was wrong, and this topic has been staring me in the face repeatedly this past week...and for some time, I guess, but I generally choose to look the other way, knowing that that isn't something I want to spend my time and energy focusing on. But today several things culminated and forced me to consider this topic again, more closely.

So I'll start with some basic facts: 

1. Not all people with eating disorders are underweight - people with eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes, and all of them are suffering.

2. Not all people suffering from ANOREXIA are underweight.

3. You don't have to be underweight to be extremely medically compromised.

4. Some people with eating disorders who are underweight see themselves as "fat", and others know that they are physically unwell as a result of being underweight. Those pictures you see with an emaciated girl staring into the mirror to an overweight reflection are not always accurate.

5. Some people with eating disorders, though it's rarer, are entirely unconcerned with their weight. Which does help to show that eating disorders are not solely about body weight, shape and size.

Okay. So I want to share some of my day with you all.

I have been sort of mentoring a woman who I was in treatment with through Facebook messaging - putting a good deal of energy into trying to help her see sense, trying to help her understand that she is "sick enough" to seek treatment, reiterating that weight is unimportant but that she does not see herself clearly and that weight restoration is necessary in order to be functioning appropriately cognitively, listening to what's going on in her life...commiserating with her misery and gently suggesting that there is hope. I've been very open about my personal experiences in answering her many questions, and I don't regret any of it - I want to make clear, if she is reading this, that I am not angry for what I am about to share - but that it did open my eyes.

One of the recent questions she asked me was how long I was in treatment for, and specifically how long I spent in PHP (the 12 hour a day program I was in, in Denver). I responded that I had spent five months in PHP, and she asked: "Why were you there for 5 months? I know that you weren't very underweight." I am not angry - it was an innocent question, clouded by the things our society teaches us. I'll admit, though, that this threw me off guard. It's been a long time since anyone questioned how sick I was, and I'm past trying to prove it...there's nothing to prove. That said, I have been everywhere from severely underweight to overweight in my disorder, and while being underweight came with its own health consequences, so did having an eating disorder at higher weights. I have suffered deeply both mentally and physically at all ends of the spectrum, as have many. People die at normal weights from eating disorders frequently. It is a costly common misconception that people are worse off when they are underweight. I don't want to undermine the seriousness of being underweight, but you can be very sick at any weight. You deserve help - at any weight. You are not better for having been thinner in your eating disorder, and you don't have anything to prove. If you are attempting to prove your illness by losing weight, you are a hamster running on a wheel - you are just making things worse for yourself in the long run.

Shortly after stating that it was crossing a line to comment on my weight to this woman, I received another message, from a young woman I feel privileged to have spent time with in treatment and who I consider a friend. I'm very fond of her, and have been very worried. Since our time together, she has been back in treatment - and she happened to land in a center with one of my closest friends, who mentioned that they were there together and how sad she felt for this young woman. I was happy to hear from her, and I concernedly asked how she was. She responded that her depression had improved, but that she still had motivation to recover - and when I asked her why she felt she still wanted to cling to her illness, she responded: "I'm so fat". I asked her if she knew that she was distorted, and she said no. I believe her, though some may question how in the world she is unable to see what is so obvious - this beautiful young woman has been unable to eat, and so the hospital she was in was tube feeding her. 

There are factors apart from society's idiocy that have contributed to her predicament, I'm certain, but we do have to acknowledge its role. If being thin weren't considered somehow "better", perhaps this illness would have taken a different form. I have no doubt that it would have risen to the surface somehow, but our culture and its ridiculous ideals play a role. And it is horrifying. We all know that society has unrealistic expectations for men and women and our bodies, but I don't think many of us understand the depth of the problem. It's disgusting, and it's devastating. 

People often say that in eating disorder recovery issues with body image are the first to come and the last to go. I am early in my own process of recovery, and struggle with a number of things still - emotional eating, overuse of artificial sweetener, the inability not to look at the labels on foods when buying them, choosing the lower calorie food a lot of the time when another looks more appealing - and countless other things, namely my body image. Since gaining to a weight that is above my body's natural set point, I have lived in shame of my body - wearing only sweatpants and shirts five sizes too large for me, wearing sweatshirts even when it was boiling hot outside, being hyperaware of my body and what it looks and feels like at any given moment...since graduating from my treatment program in Denver, I have been making an attempt to wear shirts, at least, that fit me more appropriately. On occasion I'll wear a dress with leggings. Around the house, I'll wear my pajama shorts and a tank top - but I would never, never consider leaving the house wearing anything that didn't cover me. It has been an enormous success simply to leave the house in a shirt without a sweater or sweatshirt to cover my arms when it is hot.

Today, after these two incidences, I was preparing to leave the house to walk to the grocery store. It is very hot outside, and as I considered the clothes I was about to put back on - heavy sweatpants and a baggy shirt - I stalled. I thought, "I am not meant to leave behind a legacy of body shame and hatred". I walked to the grocery store in the one pair of shorts I own and a tank top, with a sense of pride in my ability today to do something I couldn't have done even yesterday. To hell with societal ideals, to hell even with my own brain's bullying - and it felt good, to walk in the sun with my skin exposed. I felt the wind on my arms and legs and face and hands, I listened to my music, and I kept thinking that my legacy will not be one of body shame. I am so, so much more than that. I am a person: a flawed, loving, neurotic, intelligent high school dropout who loves to read and write and help others...I am artistic and intuitive, I am determined and brave. Who are you outside of your body? What does it mean to have a "good" body? If everyone in this world were so focused on their bodies that they didn't pursue their passions, what kind of a world would we live in?

What do you want to leave behind, when you leave this earth? I invite you to consider this. 

/end rant.

The Foundation On Which I'm Rebuilding My life.

Hi, everyone!

I haven't written in a few months, and a lot has happened in the interim. A few people have been asking me to start a blog specifically on recovery from an eating disorder; I nearly did, but I think I'm going to stick with this one. I'm going to try to blog more regularly, and of course much of what I write about will be related to or directly about recovering from an eating disorder, but eating disorders are so often tied to other co-occurring mental illnesses and while there are some wonderful resources out there, it's difficult to find much on how to cope with both simultaneously.
I'm committed to being more organized and regular in my blogging. In looking over my old posts I can see that I've started to tackle certain topics, with the intention of revisiting them later, and that that ended up not happening a few times. As a lot of you know, I'm extremely open about what's going on with me on Facebook, and I've been questioning whether I want to keep doing that directly on Facebook. A blog is still the internet, yeah, but at least it's a forum meant specifically for such openness. So we'll see what happens in that arena.

So. I graduated from ERC, after a full year of intensive treatment there...and I had agreed to/committed to coming to a Transitional Living facility, so here I am in Santa Cruz. I'm actually still doing a combination of PHP/IOP - Intensive Outpatient five days a week and Partial two days a week. The goal is to taper down to IOP three days a week, and then to pure outpatient treatment - which just means appointments with a therapist, dietitian and psychiatrist - while demonstrating a capacity to live "real life" in the world, in recovery, without the support of a treatment program. The facility itself seems very good, though it's only been three weeks and I'm still feeling it out. I like my therapist very much, though I'm still getting to know her. 

I don't know how long I'll be here. There's a chance I'll stay for some time after I complete Intensive Outpatient, and just stay at the "Mermaid House" (that's what the transitional house is called - I hate the name, but it's a good place) and do outpatient...really take this slowly. Again and again and again I've been told to throw out my timeline; I was hoping to be home by September to move in with some wonderful friends of mine, but no one seems to feel good about me leaving in August or September, and I'm not sure how I feel about it. One of my potential roommates-to-be/one of my best friends told me essentially that whatever happens is okay. Another idea is that if we don't end up getting a place together, whenever I do return home I may find an apartment in their apartment complex, and then we'd be near one another and still able to see each other regularly.

As for the quote..."Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life"...I find comfort and empowerment in those words. It helps that I'm a massive Harry Potter freak and regard J.K. Rowling as something of a personal God, but more than anything it just gives me hope that what I'm doing is not impossible. It awakens a determination in me that I think is always there, but hides sometimes out of fear. It just rings true. I got into recovery not because I had an epiphany, not because I realized that I could have a better life - I went into treatment for the millionth time because I had nowhere else to go. I was desperate and hopeless and I didn't want to be there and I tried to leave several times - and all of this not because I didn't want to get better, but because I did not believe it was possible. I didn't think I could. It took the majority of my stay to get to hope, for the belief that it might be possible to come into being, and here I am now. I still struggle daily with thoughts that "I can't do this", or "I can't handle this". Multiple times every day. And I don't know how to deal with it, really, except to tell myself that I'm already doing it, that it may be slow and that there are no guarantees, but I've done an okay job at changing so far, and maybe I don't know everything - maybe, if I just keep going and don't give up...logically that should lead me somewhere better. I have more of a choice now than I ever have. I have more distance from the disorder.
But the uncertainty and fear still accompany me in everything I do. That's just the truth.

Anyway, I'll write more another time - I have to get ready to go in for the day (today's one of my PHP days). If there's anything any of you want me to write on specifically, please let me know. I want this blog to be helpful to others - I want people to see that someone who has been "Chronic" can get better, but that recovery doesn't look perfect, you don't always feel like you can do it, and you can keep going anyway - but I also want to address any topics people want to read about. 

Thanks as always for reading,

Sofia   

Hot Chocolate.

I haven't been writing in this blog as much recently, because I've hit one of the bumps in the road. Behaviorally things are still exceptional in comparison to where I'm coming from, and while I've had slips - as I've previously noted is, for most people, pretty inevitable in recovery from an eating disorder - I continue to get back up as quickly as possible, and move on. That's been very important. I believe now that I am on the path to recovery, though that belief waxes and wanes. Recently, I've felt somewhat more hopeless than I have in the last month or two, which has been discouraging, but I've continued in my behaviors to do what I need to do while I seek and am gifted with things that help with hope and a conviction that I'm going to make it through this. That said, I've also come to recognize and accept that recovery is a loooongggg process. It's bizarre - sometimes I'll find myself having made enormous strides in a very short period of time, and sometimes, like now, it's slower than I (or the people who love me) would like. Of course, no one wanted this to happen in the first place, did they?
Anyway, I came to this blog tonight hoping to reassure others who struggle, particularly with Bulimia; I have suffered from all different types of eating disorders, but primarily Bulimia, and so most of what I can offer is in relation to this particular subtype of eating disorder.

If you've suffered from Bulimia, you'll likely resonate with the moment(s) I'm about to describe to you. The urge to binge, or the compulsion to eat whatever is in front of you more quickly than is healthy or helpful, to stuff something down without even really tasting it, or to drink wayyy too much coffee far too quickly, the compulsion to put a hell of a lot more salt or splenda or what-the-fuck-ever in your food/drink...etcetera, etcetera. I myself struggle very much with each of those things. Tonight, after the day was over at my program, I decided to hop on over to World Market to look around and pick up a few things. One of the things I wound up purchasing was Pumpkin Spice flavored Hot Chocolate. I was excited about it - I haven't allowed myself to have anything resembling hot chocolate in a very long time - and thought I could have it for the evening snack that is a part of my meal plan, before bed. It didn't occur to me at the time what a difficulty it was going to be to have the hot chocolate in the apartment.
There was a time that having any food in this apartment (I'm staying in an apartment that my program, Eating Recovery Center, owns) was an enormous trigger for me. I'm proud to say that I can now live in the apartment and keep some food around and not have it rob me of the ability to think about anything else - I've slowly adjusted, but there are still certain foods I do not bring into this apartment, because while it's important to push yourself out of your comfort zone, there's also such thing as being just plain stupid and pushing yourself too far too quickly. As far as meals go, I don't cook yet, because typically when you cook you buy foods that lead to leftovers; if I were to, say, want to make myself a sandwich, the rest of the loaf of bread would be there afterwards. I'm not quite there yet. While I've come a long way, I'm still early in and protective of my recovery. I also tend to steer clear of keeping very sweet foods around, which brings me to the hot chocolate.
I try to wait until I'm hungry to eat my snack. Sometimes I eat it very early, which is sometimes because I'm going to bed very early that night, and sometimes compulsive. Sometimes I don't get hungry at all and I'm tempted to skip it, and I've had slips in that way too, but it's important to follow your meal plan as best you can when you are in early recovery. Your dietitian has tailored it specifically to you, your body and its needs, and it will not "make you fat". Often times, in early recovery from an eating disorder, your body's hunger signals are all screwed up. You may think you are hungry when you are not, and you may not be able to feel hunger, or even know what hunger feels like. This is often the case for me at this point.
Back to the hot chocolate. From the time I arrived "home" to the apartment, my mind was racing, my pulse had quickened, and all I could think about was - you got it - the hot chocolate in the cabinet. Which led to thinking about the other foods that I have here, which led to thinking about binging. I sensed this anxiety, this almost manic state that I have learned from experience makes me more vulnerable to binging and purging early on and went straight to my journal while I pulled up a TED Talk that a former dietitian I love performed today, which I felt I benefited from greatly and thought might be able to help center me. I journaled while the talk loaded, and then I watched some of the talk, which did help to calm me and center me a bit, and then I wrote a card for a friend's birthday tomorrow.
I can't say this enough: It has been my experience that a) planning ahead so that you aren't predisposed to strong urges in the first place, and b) catching the compulsion to binge in the very early stages are extremely important and helpful.
I managed to wait until the time I generally like to have my snack around, and writing this entry has helped me to not gulp it all down more quickly than is "normal", or healthy.
I won't lie. I didn't much enjoy the hot chocolate: at this point, certain foods still cause a lot of anxiety for me, and I still struggle with being dissociated from the experience of eating. A lot of the time, if not most of the time, I still find myself at the end of a meal or a snack and realize I hardly tasted it. I believe this is very normal. Binging is for a lot of people similar in some ways to being unconscious. In my experience, binging was a form of dissociation. It was like I'd knocked myself out for a few hours at the end of an episode - eat the food, very quickly, for my timed 30 minutes, and run to the bathroom, get it all up, go back to the food, do it again, get it up again, back to the food...and so on, and so on. It makes me sad to think about it, because it's sad. My discovery that food could do this - provide me with a sense of numbness - happened when I was very young. I don't remember the exact moment, and I'm pretty certain it was unconscious. But it clearly happened, and led to a very dangerous illness that is painstakingly difficult to recover from.

Because I want for a moment to speak directly to the person who is lost in the struggle with Bulimia - the person who has been labeled "Chronic" and feels hopeless, that their predicament is unresolvable - to the person who, like me, has many times considered suicide as a way to end this nightmare - I'm going to be very honest. I believe that I am in recovery. My recovery is not perfect, nor am I naïve enough to assume it would be - anymore. For a long time, I believed that I needed to stop all behaviors at once, and that if I had a lapse, it meant I had failed. It meant I could not recover. It was evidence that I was once again failing...and then I'd give up. I do not use lapses as an excuse to relapse fully any longer, nor do I allow them to go on once I have "woken up" from the slip. Do I still feel hopeless sometimes? Absolutely. Lately it's been more consistent hopelessness, which has been discouraging, but I have learned slowly that no matter what - no matter WHAT - it is my right and my duty to get back up. Even if I feel jaded and disillusioned, even if it feels like recovery is going to take twenty years. Now, I hope to hell it doesn't take twenty years, but I've come to accept that full recovery might take years for me. And how would I rather spend twenty years - recovering from an eating disorder while living life as fully as possible, or running in circles and getting nowhere, blinded by misery and hopelessness, isolated and desperate? I will not spend another twenty years with this eating disorder. I don't really believe I'd make it another twenty years. Eating Disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness, and while many of us who have been labeled "Chronic" have put our bodies through an absurd amount, and it is miraculous that we have survived, they can kill very quickly.
There have been times when I thought I was not lucky to have survived, but cursed. I wanted so, so badly for this pain to end, and I resented that I was still alive. Just my luck.
Today, I sometimes still feel this way, because of both the eating disorder and the Bipolar disorder, usually the depression. I don't want to lie and say that everything is perfect because I don't want the reader to expect that their path won't be rocky, so despite my anxieties that some of my loved ones will read this and feel disappointed in me, because I'm not recovering fast enough, I'm going to be to the point and honest. I still use a lot of behaviors. I still use too much artificial sweetener (which feels insulting, but I still do it - there will come a day that I don't, purely as a testament that I do not have to). I still drink a lot of diet soda. I still sometimes eat a meal far too quickly, or compulsively drink coffee in the morning before I go in for the day of treatment. I still "body check" - which means looking at your body in the mirror or another reflective surface - and hate it, sometimes. I still count calories a lot of the time.
I stop myself from doing these things a lot of the time, and I do them much less than I used to, and I am building and utilizing my awareness of when I am doing or want to do these things - but I still do them. I'm not "healed" or recovered or anywhere near it, and I won't claim to be. But I am shocked by how much progress I have made. I know it might not sound like it to you, when I name all of these residual behaviors, but eating disorders are insidious, mine was severe, and they are composed of millions of little behaviors, not just the obvious ones. I suspect that they often take a very long time to fully recover from. But we can't compare our journeys - some people will recover faster than others, and that's okay. We all just have to do the best we can, in this moment, today. I don't love the quote "Tomorrow is a new day" much - a) because it's bland and b) because I think it's important to get up right after you slip, that same day if possible. If you have a slip that lasts a few days, get up whenever you can. Get up however you can. I've learned that the longer you allow it to go on, the harder it is to get up, and if you have an eating disorder and have tried to recover you know how quickly it can take over again.

I guess I'll probably not sound as optimistic as you might expect sometimes, but I want to be realistic and honest. I do believe in recovery, and I believe in hope. I also think it's instrumental to be realistic with yourself.

That's it for today.

Our fucked up ideals

Another journal entry I'd like to share. This speaks to our society's fucked up ideals and judgments, and touches on one of the major faults I have come to notice in the way that centers that treat eating disorders are set up.

"I finally vented to someone (a counselor named Marisa) about the way ERC is so much more targeted to the treatment of undereating than the struggle of overeating and/or binging. This center and frankly most centers are so focused on making certain that the patients are eating enough that the fact that for some, saying "I am not hungry" is a victory goes unnoticed and unacknowledged. Because of this attitude even amongst patients it's generally more acceptable or "cooler" to struggle with Anorexia or undereating, so even those whose primary or only struggle is eating when not hungry, overeating and/or binging will often pretend their struggles are what they aren't; thus their treatment is ultimately a waste of time, ineffective, as they never address the true issue, and they may even leave worse off than when they arrived. I know for me it's now hard to NOT eat at specific times - even if I'm not at all hungry. That is counterproductive...that's making the situation worse than it was to begin with. I think I'm going to bring this up in Community group today. People here are more ashamed of overeating and often even proud of restricting/starving, and THEY'RE ALL EATING DISORDERS. Disorders. Ideally we'd never see one as somehow "better" than another. We are all here to have a go at/attempt recovery. Ideally, there wouldn't be any judgment around any of it, let alone pride - it's sad and fucked up that anyone would be proud of any self harming behavior. Disordered behavior in any form serves a purpose of some sort and at times one of the functions, for some, is to get attention, to "be seen", and that is very often judged as well, which is also screwed up. If that weren't so judged the people who use their behavior to serve that purpose would be less likely to hide that truth, that that is one of the major functions or a need being met, and they'd be able to address it, and more likely to get well sooner.

And the pride that so often accompanies certain eating disordered behavior or a starved body speaks to a lot of different types of dysfunction, including but not limited to how screwy our society as well as what is considered attractive is.

Are we all not human beings? We are born a certain way and that's it; we all have bodily functions and voices and eyes and hands if we're lucky, we all age, we all develop personalities and values and belief systems...we all have emotions and desires and intentions that serve functions. All of us have needs and those needs are constructed based on what we are taught and learn is right or what we believe or the way we're born and come into the world to begin with. How did we come to construct these completely bizarre, pointless and even harmful ideals? Who decided one day what was "ugly"? What was shameful? Random examples, scars and stretch marks. Most of us have them. What about them makes them so unacceptable or undesirable? Were we bored one day - did we develop ideals to have rules to follow, to give us ways to spend our time? Because I can think of a lot of ways to spend our time that would be a hell of a lot more meaningful, graceful, kind, loving, and productive. What the hell has happened in our society?"

That's all for today.

Bulimia.

This is just a brief entry, but I was thinking about a young woman who died from Bulimia. Her name was Melissa Avrin, and after she had died her mother, Judy, found the following in her journal:

"Someday...

I'll eat breakfast.

I'll keep a job for more than three weeks.

I'll have a boyfriend for more than 10 days.

I'll love someone.

I'll travel wherever I want.

I'll make my family proud.

I'll make a movie that will change lives."

And her mother made a documentary about Melissa.

I'm already emotional this morning, and reading that has me tearful. I drove a couple of hours to go see it went it came out, and I remember being so grateful that someone had, at last, raised awareness of Bulimia specifically. As someone who has suffered primarily from Bulimia, it means a lot to me. All eating disorders are painful, and serious, devastating and potentially deadly. But for some reason many people don't see Bulimia as equivalent to Anorexia in its level of seriousness...maybe because a lot of people with Bulimia aren't underweight. Many people who suffer from Anorexia also binge and purge (that is called "Anorexia binge/purge subtype, which I suffered from for a stage of my disorder as well - however, for the majority of my disorder, you could not see it by my body size), but many people who suffer from Bulimia are of average or higher than average body weights. 

I was trying to write about what it's like in my journal to deal with Bulimia specifically. And I couldn't make myself. It was too much of a pain in the ass, and would take a tremendous amount of time and effort to explain all of the little but horrible ways it affected me, as well as the bigger things...I've been having a rough morning, and I just don't have the energy in this moment. But I promise to come back to this...I will contribute to the awareness of this particular eating disorder. I promise that to myself.

As for this morning, it's getting harder and harder to stay in treatment for such a long time. I've actually had longer stays at other places, and every time it begins to irritate me or get hard, I try to tell myself how privileged I am to have the resources to access care for as long as I need when the vast majority of patients do not. When I see people who have been here for two, maybe three months leaving, or people I feel like I'm in a better space than getting a discharge date, I try to tell myself I'm lucky. But there are times I just have to let myself be upset about it. I am so privileged in so many ways in my life, but no one would want to be away from home for ten months, never seeing their family or friends or cat, talking about difficult shit for eleven, twelve hours every single day, so controlled...it's just not an easy thing. And I really feel like I'm ready to step down, and if people insist that I still need to be in a program, I wish they'd at least let me do the one in my area at home, while living at home. I'll be living with my parents when I return to North Carolina; I've already given up my apartment, knowing that living alone in my one bedroom directly after such a long stay in treatment was a bad idea. My dad was the one that ended up helping me to see sense about that one.

Anyway, I'm in a super irritable mood this morning. It's happened a few times recently, and usually I feel more accepting of my situation by the time the afternoon rolls around. Oy vey...I'm just going to get through this day. And it's going to be alright, even though it isn't fun. 

That's all for now. Later, guys.

The Miracle of the Ability to Change.

The following is an email to a prior "sponsor" of mine; a "sponsor" in a 12 step program is a person who mentors another person and helps them in their recovery, and to "work the steps" with them. You tell them everything; you call them when you need someone, and they come to know you inside and out. They come to mean a lot to you. Anyway, this has happened with more than one person in my life, but this person had to set a boundary with me around my eating disorder in order to protect themselves; they couldn't continue to watch me hurting/killing myself, and they needed to have some space from me until I was in recovery. So over the last few years, I haven't really had her in my life anymore. I still love and miss her like crazy, and the other day I decided to send her an email update on how I'm doing; I wanted her to know how much things are changing, that I really think it's genuine this time. I've removed her name from the email in order to respect her anonymity.

______,

It's been such a pleasure and a gift to see your smile in the photos you've posted on Facebook; I love seeing you happy. I so hope things are going well, and that you're generally happy in your life. I love you more than words can do justice...I always will.
I have a couple of things I'd like to say to you, and I hope it doesn't make you uncomfortable; I just miss you. I so respect your need for space. I get that if you'll have me in your life again someday, it'll need to be after I have sustained solid recovery for an extended period of time. For all I know you've moved on with your life, and we may not be close again. I will respect whatever you want and need, and whatever supports your happiness. But I do miss you tremendously.
I want you to know how well I'm doing...regardless of how it affects our relationship, I'm proud to tell you and I also think it'll make you smile...it shocks me, I'm in awe at my own progress. I'm actually proud of myself. I had given up, not long ago, for quite some time.Things are changing - things HAVE changed, so, so much over these last ten months here at Eating Recovery Center. I've been out in Denver at ERC for ten months now and it took about eight and a half for me to begin to be able to see and feel the changes in myself, but they are dramatic.
Today, I respect myself. The biggest change - one that makes me cry when I think about it - is that I can honestly say that I want to be alive today...and I am happy to be alive. The other biggest: I truly have hope today. I'm not overly confident, and for all I know this could just be yet smother treatment stay...but I have a suspicion that it isn't. I have fear, too...but it's amazing to feel hopeful; _____, today I actually want to DO things with my future, AND I regularly do "normal" things I couldn't make myself do for years, because I was so depressed. I used to pray for death. Today, I want to go to Africa and volunteer; I actually believe there's a chance that I'll get my GED, and go to college. I look on University websites for fun, the ones I'm interested in, and I'm not kidding around with my goals - Mills, UC Berkeley...I want to sing at Open Mic nights. I sing in the shower, and when I'm walking back to the apartment from the bus stop (I'm in Partial now, so I'm still here eleven hours a day but stay in one of their apartments, with some roommates). I've started keeping an art journal again - that only started up again in the last week and a half. For ten months I refused to do any kind of artwork or to attend our art therapy group. I want to relearn how to play the piano, and I want to learn to play the saxophone. I actually call my friends, when I had grown so used to isolation that calling people still scares me. But sometimes I can make myself do it anyway, and I answer their calls. I actually started doing LAUNDRY (that's still a newer thing) and I take care of my hygiene on a regular basis, with showering and brushing my teeth...I want to go to school and get my Masters in Psych, and specialize in chronic cases of depression, eating disorders and addiction (wonder where I got those ideas, eh?). I want to work with people who feel utterly hopeless. You know that I'm not the only one in my life who had come to believe I wouldn't get better. My parents, my mother in particular, still don't seem to have a whole lot of faith that I'll be able to sustain my recovery post treatment. But holy shit, I have faith that I really might.
I'm at a much higher weight than I'd like to be; my metabolism is kind of shot from everything it's been through. But my dietician says it'll normalize over time, especially when I discharge from here and do things like ride my bike and exercise (in a moderate and healthy way,
obviously). That I am able to work with the horrible thoughts I have every day about my body, and take a breath and tell myself that I am a valuable human being no matter my size, is amazing. When a thought comes up, I think that I'm aware of where indulging those thoughts gets me, and it's pathetic - it is not worth it, it's ridiculous how not worth it it is - and that I am not interested in becoming a statistic. The other morning I woke up before my alarm. I wake up really early to have some time to myself before program anyway, 5:45 on the dot daily, so I woke up at 5:00 yesterday, ha...but I was happy about it, because it was raining. I made coffee and sat on the balcony with my coffee and my cigarette, and I listened to and watched the rain, and I noticed the stars, and the noticed that I have the mental and emotional space TO notice something like the stars again. And I felt grateful, and happy. I cannot remember the last time I felt confident in saying I truly felt "happy". I could say "grateful", or another positive, but I never trusted that I could really be experiencing "happiness". And it had been a long time. I feel empowered...and proud to be who I am. I really like the person that I am, today. I'm a really good person. I can be funny. I'm deeply compassionate. In a lot of ways, I'm a rare type of person.
I'm becoming an adult - every morning now, I listen to and read articles on NPR :-P...
I didn't want to come to ERC, but had nowhere else to go. I was so alone...but so hopeless. I had no space in my brain that believed in the least that I could recover. My eventual death from the disorder, or, more likely I thought, from suicide, was fact. Today I found a little notecard my first therapist (I started at the "Evergreen" location, was there until six weeks ago - hard to say goodbye to my therapist there, but they don't have step down levels of care there so now I'm at "Pine" - yes, they're all tree names)...anyway, her name is Kelsey, and I love her deeply. She would write little notecards for me to carry around. On one side of this one, it says: "I will not get better". I don't think we had a single session where I didn't say that to her. On the other side of this notecard, it says: "Can I give myself some space from this thought?" Honestly, though, I sent Kelsey an email today telling her that I feel hope, and I know she'll be shocked, and ,happy and proud. Not a single session where we didn't spend half of it talking about how hopeless I felt, and where I didn't have to promise not to hurt myself. Because all I wanted was for the pain to end. I did not believe that it would. I stayed alive solely for my mother and my father, because I love them beyond belief, and I didn't want to break their hearts. Today, I'm alive for me. For them, too, and all of the people I love, but...for me, too.
In eating disorder treatment and recovery, specialists/the professionals insist that slips are a part of the process. It's a little different from drug addiction, in that you can't just stop using the substance; you have to eat, multiple times daily. I won't lie to you because I no longer lie, I have had some slips some nights. But I pick myself right back up the next morning, and I no longer think that a slip means a full on relapse, nor do I use a slip as permission for a full blown relapse. For that matter, I am completely uninterested in relapsing. What an unbelievably miserable existence...my eyes have opened so much and I recognize my privilege, how lucky I am in so many ways, but I no longer feel guilty or angry with myself for suffering from a mental illness. I have compassion for myself, and patience. No bullshit, don't get me wrong. For a long time I used my illness to get attention. I was proud of being so sick. But somewhere in the last few years, that stopped. I was just miserable, legitimately, and all I wanted was to be well but I just didn't believe I could be. It was terrible.
I wanted to tell you all of these things...because I love you, because I know you'll be proud, and in some ways it's like showing off success to a previous teacher, haha :)...you were my sponsor. _____, I am finally getting it, or at least I suspect so. Isn't that incredible? I know this email is long as hell. Hope you didn't mind too much.
I love you more than I'll ever, ever be able to say. More than you'll ever be able to understand. I miss you. When you "liked" my status on Facebook today, I cried, because I was so happy and grateful you felt comfortable enough to have interacted with me in some way. I just adore you. I'm so proud of the human that you are...I know you have your own story, that your life might have gone so differently. I'm so grateful, so happy that it didn't. I'm blessed to have met you.
Love you always, and thank you for reading this thing. I hope someday we go out to lunch or coffee and laugh and cry and smile together.
Always loving you,

Sofia

It really is amazing to notice all of these differences in myself. I'm self conscious about sharing so much in this blog because I don't want to sound like I'm self absorbed, or like I'm "showing off", but I have met a lot of people along the way throughout all of these treatment stays and those who know me will know what a difference this is; I'm hoping they find some hope in that. I'm hoping to provide hope for those of who you feel hopeless today; whether it's been two months or twenty years, there is always, always hope. When I used to hear that, I thought it was bullshit. But it isn't...please hold on, for another minute, another hour, another day. Hold on. Don't give up. Don't let yourself become a statistic.
I wrote an entry about one of my closest friends who did pass away from her eating disorder; Chrissie Steljes. I was looking through her Facebook photos today, thinking about her, and these two struck me:

[Side note: Since Chrissie's death, I've been determined to share her story. I believe it is my responsibility as someone who loved her to do so; her life was valuable, her life matters, even still - she was a remarkable, beautiful young woman, and she changed my life. I know that she would want to help as many people as possible, even though she's no longer here. I will always love her. I am blessed to know and love her family, and to have their support. To her family: Thank you for your love, your support, and your faith in me. I love you very much. Chrissie's life will not go unnoticed...she continues to change lives, and in that way, she will always be with us. Rest in peace, Chrissie.]

Today was up and down, but overall very successful in moving forward in my recovery. On Sundays, we don't go in until much later; most days we have to be at the van (they come and pick us up from the apartments we stay in, once we're at the Partial level of care) by 6:45 am, but on Sundays they pick us up at 9:15 am. So we have breakfast on our own. I was nervous about today last night; I knew I'd be up before my roommates, as I tend to wake up earlier than them, and I thought that as I'd gone grocery shopping the night before and had some (not a ton, but some) food around that I might be tempted to binge and purge. Before I turned out the light last night I wrote in my journal and used the coping skill of "Coping Ahead"; planning ahead. I've learned in this process that it's much more effective for me to plan ahead of time, and do my best to keep my mood level by doing things that keep me feeling more stable overall than it is to try to deal with an intense urge to use a behavior in the moment. I'm not saying I don't have urges still or that planning ahead of time will eliminate all urges, because I definitely do still have them, and they're very uncomfortable and hard to deal with, but coping ahead as much as is possible is probably the best plan and does really help to decrease the regularity of those impulses. Impulsivity is the most difficult thing I'm dealing with at the moment; when I feel impulsive, or act on impulse, there's very little space between the initial urge to do the behavior and the actual behavior. As another side note, something I find helpful lately when I feel like binging and purging is getting myself into the shower. It sort of removes me from the environment and gives me time to catch up with myself, and to think. I'm also wet by that point so if I want to go and do the behavior it takes more time to get myself into a position where I can, so I'm more likely to think it through.
I ended up doing very, very well this morning; I made myself something I really enjoyed, and I didn't end up have any urges at all. I've also noticed that by eating foods I truly enjoy and going into the preparation of my meals and/or snacks as mindfully as possible, I'm much less likely to want to overeat or binge - because I'm actually satisfied.

It's definitely been a ride. I'm getting tired and want to read a bit before bed, so I'm going to go, but I'll write again. Thank you so much for reading, and if you are suffering as well, please give yourself some time. Be patient with yourself, and try to be compassionate and kind to yourself. Don't shut yourself off from the world; I know that it was love, and my connections with others that I loved, that kept me going when I didn't think I could or had no other reason to. I know that I often thought that even if I DID recover someday it wasn't worth experiencing the pain for so much longer while I waited, that I should end my life to end the pain. I do not think that way anymore. I am so grateful that I didn't kill myself, and that I held on to get to this point. There's a long way to go for me, but I've come very far, and the little things - as cheesy as this sounds - are worth it to me...but more than even the things themselves (like the sound of the rain, or watching the sun rise, or the moon and the stars...) - more than even that, it's being able to experience and enjoy them, knowing that I was so desperate for so long and did not believe that I could. The miracle of the ability to change. It feels amazing.

Give yourself a chance. Goodnight.

Something feels different this time.

Hi, everyone -

It's been a long while since I've updated this blog; a lot has happened since, but here I am - still here, still alive in the world. I have a lot to tell you, but I'm going to make the focus of this entry the journal entry I want to share with you, and I'll come back tomorrow and the next day and fill you in on the rest.
Those of you who know me know that I have suffered with this illness - the eating disorder, both Anorexia and Bulimia, as well as the Depression - chronically. It has been chronic, it has been severe, and the prognosis was not good. I am not the only person who had come to believe that I could not get better; I expected death, by the eating disorder or, more likely I thought, suicide.
I want to get to bed soon-ish because I am currently in treatment at the Partial level of care (you go during the day but sleep somewhere else) and have to wake up freakishly early to get there on time, but basically, the purpose of this particular blog entry is this: I want people to know that recovery is possible, even when you've given up on yourself. Even for the "Chronic", the hopeless. No matter how long you've been suffering and/or how bad it's been, something can shift, and it can happen when you least expect it. This entry may be missing some things, as I'm in a hurry, but I promise not to ditch the blog again; I want to share what I'm doing with others, particularly those who feel desperately hopeless, and I'll come back and fill you all in. So here's the entry I wrote in my personal journal just over an hour ago:

"Holy hell, I just spent the last three hours actually with other people, talking and engaging...with one of my roommates, M____, and another girl in Program, M____, who came over. SO out of character for me: every day I come back to the apartment, shut my door, and watch Netflix until I can fall asleep. I have grown to be afraid of actually interacting with others, and I never told anyone that I'm well aware that this 'routine' is isolation and based out of fear and anxiety, because I didn't want to have to change. But tonight M____ and I were walking back to the apartment together from where the Van drops us off, and we were talking, and it was fun...so I had a cigarette with her on our balcony. And we grew more and more honest and vulnerable with one another, and I grew progressively more and more comfortable, so I stayed. I became internally anxious when she told me M____ was coming over; I didn't know her well. But I decided to give her a chance. I told them I'd have to go call my parents and shower soon because I wanted an 'out' - but I stayed, and I wound up staying for hours, until it was getting late (considering how early I wake up) and I had to tear myself away to go actually shower. Generally I'd immediately watch Netflix after a shower (and it should be noted that my showering on a regular basis is not only major progress but incredibly recent), but I thought it would be good for me to journal. I'll probably watch a little of my show or read before bed, but tonight I'm choosing to veer away from my rigidity and routine - and to let that be okay.
My progress amazes me. It's incredible. It took ten months in treatment for it to become noticeable, measurable progress, but lately it's been one miracle after another - obvious things, and so fast. I have never done my laundry on a regular basis. I have gone months without doing laundry. I became so used to not doing it that I became afraid, in a weird way, to do it - I'd occasionally have thoughts about it, but not doing it was so much easier, safer, and more normal to me. I have done my laundry not once but twice in the last week, and I've come to discover that it just isn't that big of a deal. Not only does it take VERY little time, but doing it helps me to feel empowered, proud, and more confident that my recovery may actually last this time. This time may actually be different. For most people on this planet, doing their laundry is not groundbreaking: but I have lived with myself for over 25 years now, and I know what a big deal it is for me. It IS groundbreaking, for me, and it's a sign that something is honestly changing. For months now I've been trying every day to get myself to do it, but each time I'd tell myself: "Come on now...you know you're never actually going to."
And so I never did.
Today, I do my laundry. And that makes me brave.
Tonight I looked at my heavy body in the mirror, naked, after the shower; and I told myself that I was beautiful. What I am doing right now, and the ways in which I am changing, is a miracle.
I don't often go into the details with people about the severity of the behaviors I used or of the medical complications I suffered as a result because I don't want to 'trigger' anyone (people with eating disorders are often triggered by such things when in their illness), and because today I am not proud. But that I am alive is mindblowing. My body has suffered from sixteen YEARS of abuse - and I did not have a "mild" or "moderate" eating disorder. I have been in critical positions medically over, and over, and over - and I WANTED to die, because I was so desperately, despairingly anguished and hopeless, that I would not see a doctor or go to the emergency room - knowing that I was critically ill physically. I hoped that it would kill me. The miracle of my survival, of my body's resilience, felt like punishment - a curse. I would be up at some ungodly hour when everyone else was asleep because I could NEVER sleep, crying because I was alive.
For the first nine months or so of my treatment here at Eating Recovery Center, not much was different as far as my mental state was concerned. I spent every single therapy session with my beautiful therapist - and this was three times a week for nine months - talking about the depth of my hopelessness. My despair. How I wished things could be different - and I honestly did - but that I knew that things could not and would not change for me.
...and then, things did. Things began to change, after over a decade and a half, so slowly at first that I didn't notice. And then still so slowly, I thought I was imagining it. Then STILL so slowly, and it felt so impossible still, that I was too afraid to trust that it could be legitimate.
Very, very recently, I began to notice that something had definitely changed, and I slowly allowed myself to begin to believe that the small shifts I saw and felt in myself might be real. And I was scared, I was terrified, that by daring and pushing myself to believe in myself, and to allow myself to begin to have hope, that I was setting myself up to feel shattered. I had wanted things to change - I had been praying for the ability to experience hope - for years, and it felt like it was so unrealistic and unlikely and impossible that I could ever actually REALLY feel hope that I felt by believing it was real, I was almost being mean to myself.
It still scares me on some level, to allow myself to trust that these changes could last. But oh boy, I do let myself feel hope. And - I'll say it - even JOY. And confidence, empowerment, PRIDE. Yes, in MYSELF.
I also feel uncertain, and I feel afraid, and nervous. I feel suspicious. I am by no means, in NO way, overly confident.
Both are possible at the same time.
I have no clue what my future will bring. I'm utterly in the dark about what that will look like. I have a very deep understanding of the fact that it is extremely likely that I will relapse again. It's actually probably more likely, considering the history, than not.
But I allow myself this much: something feels different. I suspect that the outcome may be different this time.
It feels amazing.
Don't get me wrong - on occasion I have thoughts like: "Who are you kidding?"
But I have retorts. I choose not to indulge those thoughts.
There was a time in my life when I didn't have a choice."

That's all, for tonight. I'll be back. Love, peace, hope to you all <3

Sofia