Welp, itās been now going on 8 months since my last blog post, but the themes are eerily similar with one major difference: Iāve relapsed.
Saying that isnāt easy but lying to myself and everyone else I love is so much harder to keep up, and Iām tired of doing it. It hasnāt been going on for that long but the effects on my body has been brutal. Thatās one of the hardest parts about eating disorders; they snowball way faster than you ever thought they could...
I didnāt plan on relapsing. I donāt think it ever does. It starts slowly. For me, itās distracting myself rather than dealing with it. This became evident in February when I took on some monumental tasks. Not only was I going to continue working a full-time stressful job but now, I had taken on the tasks of choreographing a huge tap musical at one of my home theaters AND submitted a proposal to organize the first ever NEDA walk here in Milwaukee. As my former supervisor told my new supervisor, āLook out for when she starts taking on a lot. Itās a bad sign.ā Jenny knows me too well.
Iām an anxious person who puts a lot of pressure to do well on everything and I and the first to judge the first thing wrong. So, even though these events werenāt going to be out for many months, I got so overwhelmed that I went back to what feels normal: doing other things during my meal times that donāt include eating.
It wasnāt that I just stopped eating completely. It has never gone back to the level I was when I was first sick before treatment. My treatment team and support system made sure of that; however, the thoughts suddenly started flooding in again. Youāre not smart enough to organize this walk. You? Someone that can rally people for eating disorder inspiration. Yeah right... You havenāt choreographed a musical in 3 years. Donāt think this will be great. You donāt deserve to do all of these amazing things.
I had some good accountability with my partner at the time. He ensured that I ate, even when I didnāt want to. He hid my scale. He did whatever he could to keep me on track, to the point where it started to take away from him. Eating Disorders ruin relationships. The deeper into my disorder and depression I got, the more resentment I could feel building. Itās incredibly hard to love someone with an eating disorder. Ask my friends and family who stuck by me in the darkest days of treatment and suicidality.
Thereās no way to explain whatās going on. I was moody, bitchy, and just difficult to be around. I started having all these feelings that I couldnāt understand, which made me agitated and that came out on others. The thing about recovery is you learn who truly loves you, even through the good and the bad. The ones who canāt handle it leave...
Everything came to a head when I went to New York with my 'little brotherā to visit my best friend. The last time I was in the city was when all my dreams came true: I had gotten a Rockette contract. I gave it up, because I knew I physically could not do the show. The contract had weight requirements (which I was under) and fitness requirements (certain heart rates, staminas, etc). So, I was back in the city where my dreams came true and my eating disorder took them away. It was disheartening knowing the life I gave up for my eating disorder. When I got home, I gave up to my eating disorder.
I know what youāre thinking, āGirl, that makes no sense. WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?ā If you have an eating disorder, you know why. My eating disorder has stuck by me through every terrible moment in my life: my friends dying, moving around all the time, break ups, people leaving, and more. My eating disorder knows how to comfort me more than any real life person ever could, because it was the only way I ever felt relief. When I was so anxious and agitated that I couldnāt function, my eating disorder was there. When I was crying because I didnāt get the dance part I wanted, it was there. When I was raped a year ago and tried to kill myself, it was there. When I entered grad school, it was there. When I got a full-time job right after school, it was there. It didnāt matter if it was good or bad, it was there. But when my eating disorder is bad, it feels so good.
Post-New York, I really struggled. I was mentally, physically, and emotionally drained. I had so many clients in crisis at work. I had a huge caseload. I was in a failing relationship where everyday we had to ask each other if we wanted to keep doing it. I was worried about family issues. I came home every night and fell asleep on my couch right away. I didnāt know what else to do.
Suicidality for me is a tricky thing. On some level, I have felt suicidal pretty much everyday since I was 5 years old. Itās this weird gray area that I know itās always an option but not one I call on with any type of intention to follow through on frequently. When I say I need to be hospitalized, itās a sign that I know that things have gotten to a point so bad where I cannot keep myself safe and cannot stand to keep living in the world in the state Iām in. After I got back from New York, it was becoming a stronger option every single day. I was skipping meals and thinking about killing myself all day, every day. Then, I knew what I needed to do.
March 28th, I spoke to my treatment team, who recommended I be hospitalized. I then spoke to my family and my work to make the arrangements for it. I chose to be hospitalized in St Louis due to the nature of my work here in Milwaukee, a choice that never everyone agreed with but were willing to work with me on as long as I checked in with someone throughout my drive down. I packed my bag. I went to sleep.
March 29th, I went to work in the morning, because thatās just me... I knew I would be missing a lot of work without pay (my benefits arenāt eligible for use until 6 months in. I was 28 days short...). Then, I drove to St Louis, met my brother for dinner, and went off to Mercy Hospital. I got admitted and tried to suffocate myself later that night. It was 10 months to the day of my last attempt.
Clearly that didnāt work since Iām typing this. I spent three days on a locked psych ward giving myself the time and space I needed. Everything was going great until the night before I was scheduled to discharge. Thatās when I was broken up with over the phone. This is by no means an attack on my partner. He had good intentions and I understand why he did it. I merely make this point to show that it was a catalyst for what comes next.
I was discharged on April 1st and saw my entire treatment team that day. I was exhausted, drained, and not in any great sort of mental capacity for true therapeutic anything that day. So, they asked me to stay the weekend. I was resistant, because my worker bee self was ready to get back to work and Iām hella stubborn. I complied and decided to use Tuesday as my driving day.
Monday was tough, because my treatment team told me exactly what I didnāt want to hear; my job wasnāt healthy for me and I wasnāt in a state to return to Milwaukee successfully. I was also reminded of the deal that we made when I left; I would sign a 6 month lease and if I wasnāt doing well, I would go back to St Louis. Did I mention Iām stubborn? I wasnāt having any of that. I agreed to look at doing intensive outpatient programs in Milwaukee and committing to self-care in order to come back.
I was half bullshitting my team and half serious about it (This is probably where I should apologize to my therapist, who will probably read this and already know that, but my bad, Cristina). I returned to Milwaukee against everyoneās advice with a sense of false self-confidence that I could do it and prove everyone wrong. There was one major change I wasnāt ready for though.
I was relieved at the breakup for both good and bad reasons. I could tell I was causing him a lot of pain, and I hated myself for that, which in turn fed the eating disorder. I felt relief that I wouldnāt be doing that anymore, BUT I had another sense of good/bad relief; I no longer had any accountability. The perfect relapse storm was brewing.
I was supposed to go grocery shopping before I left St Louis (Sorry mom), but figured I would be fine to do it when I got home. I got home on April 5. I didnāt go until April 14. 9 days of little to no food in my apartment and no energy or emotional strength to go grocery shopping. I also came home to a pile of my belongings that had been at my partnerās house, including one very tempting item: my scale.
Even when I was in my sickest days, the number on the scale wasnāt one I fixated on much. I was more focused on intake numbers than anything. It was just so much more convenient this time that I didnāt have to do all that math. I had one scale that would tell me one number every morning and night. I had also put on about 20 pounds since I had left St Louis six months earlier.
No grocery shopping + Scale + Emotionally overwhelmed Heidi= relapse.
10 of those pounds I had put on over six months were gone in a week. It was that ultimate addict high. What youāre doing is working. Keep going. I stopped eating breakfast and dinner. I only ate lunch, because if I didnāt, my coworkers would lovingly yell at me. Lunch was a Lean Cuisine, which they also werenāt thrilled about. I could tell what I was doing was wrong. I even told my coworkers I was going to bring my scale in and give it up (Sorry Jamie, Nick, and Jesse). I just couldnāt bring myself to do it.
Itās April 16 and Iām on a flight to DC to visit my friends and promote eating disorder advocacy on Capitol Hill. I did really well over this weekend, because I was happy and felt that I was doing something really important not only for myself, but for anyone who had been in my shoes. I met inspiring men and women, who made me want to be a better version of myself, especially the struggling person I showed up in DC as. Once I got home, I reverted right back into what I was doing before I left.
One of the hardest things to do when quitting any kind of addiction is the habit behind it. Ask people who try to quit smoking. A lot will say they donāt miss the cigarette itself but the action of the cigarette after a meal, while driving, etc. That was me when I was back at home alone in my apartment. I didnāt have the habit of cooking here. I never have. I rarely have eaten dinner in my own apartment in the 6.5 months I have lived here, because I left to have accountability. So, I wasnāt used to preparing anything in my home. I did start incorporating self-care though (Thanks Mercy and your endless supply of jigsaw puzzles) and continued to meet with my team.
April is a really difficult month for me. It is the anniversary of when some of my closest people have died. Itās the month my abuse started. Itās a month that I am always ready to get over with. So, when people were asking me if I was celebrating my birthday month? Hell no. Make it May.
In the two weeks leading up to my birthday, I was dreading it. Up until the week of, I had no plans, because I didnāt want to celebrate it. Who wants to turn 25? Not this lady. I donāt like birthdays, because itās always a time to reflect on what you did with your year before. 24 was a rough one for me; two suicide attempts, being raped, losing my Buddy, completing PHP and then having to enter IOP, returning to Milwaukee, two failed relationships, and a lot of transitions. But my friends convinced me that I should do something, so I did. This actually turned out to be my turning point.
When you least expect it, amazing people re-enter your life. Iām lucky to have that person right now. I received the most incredible, thoughtful, meaningful gift I have ever gotten. Itās so special that Iām not even going to share it, because to me, it truly is just our moment, but itās one I needed and one that Iām not sure that person realizes how big a deal it is to me. It was my wake up call part one that I canāt keep doing what Iām doing. I need to put on my gloves and keep fighting. So, I gave up my scale yesterday to my coworkers, which was a huge step.
Seeing pictures from my birthday was really difficult because of how deep my thought pattern is in my eating disorder right now and how bad my body dysmorphia is. So much to the point that I wanted one last hurrah of restricting before I started normalizing again. Wake up call part 2:
After restricting for over 24 hours, I was moving boxes into my apartment tonight to move on Saturday and collapsed in my building. Apparently, I fall really hard, because three apartments of people heard me and came out to see what the hell the noise was. To me, it was the sound of me hitting a new rock bottom. I let things get too out of control. The gift was the emotional wake up call. Tonight was the physical one.
Eating disorders suck. For all the things you go through to think youāre going to feel better, all you do is feel so much worse. If you want your eating disorder that badly, you have to be willing to give up everything else in your life for it, because eventually, you will lose it all...
and Iām not ready for that yet.
