I stayed in treatment for 8 weeks. Eight weeks of rating urges for self harm, binging, purging, restricting. Rating depression, body image, anxiety. Suicidal ideation. Snack challenges. Experiential therapy. Meal outings. Breakdowns, anger, tears. I cried a lot, worked through a lot emotionally.
A few times I abused my freedom at home & skipped breakfast.
A few times I drove home too fast, taking the turns too sharply, manically anticipating the release I'd feel once I got down on my knees in front of the toilet.
A few times I hid my almonds under my napkin, calculating the calories I was denying my body of.
A few times I walked back to our table pretending to be drinking my milk, when really I hadn't filled it to the top.
The last three weeks of treatment my depression was at an all time high... making behaviors not an option? Another way of saying 'let's face your problems', your insecurities, your fears. And I hated it and it sucked and I hated myself. So I started drinking every single night. I went almost twenty days straight which is NOT a person I have ever been before. Then Carl dumped me. Then I smoked pot for the first time. One night, completely trashed, I let myself get taken advantage of by a random guy I met earlier at a bar. He followed me home despite my pleas, pinned me against my own kitchen wall, and went up my skirt whispering and kissing my neck as I cried. I went to Chicago with a friend and did coke. I cried a lot. I ordered Chinese in glee knowing a purge would follow, bought tubs of Cherry Garcia frozen yogurt with intent to regurgitate the container within the next hour. Meanwhile, I desperately reached to any guy who would just show me they cared about me in the slightest.
It's not that I went to treatment not wanting recovery, or went through the motions knowing I'd go back to fucking up. I want to get better. I want to be normal. Just now I had to log in to blogspot for the first time in ages and remembered when I made this account over a year ago... I chose the e-mail wannorexictaylor@gmail.com. As in 'want'. And 'anorexic'. Are you joking? I literally scoffed out loud as I typed it in. I had no idea the grip ED would have on me or how it would take over my life, or how it's not a matter of 'wanting' anything, it wants me. When school started treatment was no longer feasible, so I made my relapse prevention plan, my outpatient appointments, and with meal plans and my recovery binder in hand I marched out ready to take on the world ED free. Guess where those things are? My car. Haven't touched them.
Now I have classes and I'm at a high weight. I hate myself. I'm depressed and to be honest all I want to do is get high or get drunk. I'm scared of the world and scared of myself. I thought treatment would fix me, and the idea that an institution like that didn't make a dent in my fucked up-ness is terrifying. I miss being thin... I miss the all-consuming film it placed over my life, fogging up my reality and numbing my fear. Being aware of pain and my issues sucks, I want to melt back into my disordered ways and hide.
"Fuck the pain away. I mean fuck it, drink it, shoot it, smoke it, snort it, cut it, binge it, purge it all the fuck away. Get high, relapse. That's what we do."
 |
| Got my hair cut. It's so much shorter >:( |
Praying for everyone xoxo
I thought maybe I would have something to say that would matter but I don't. I just know that when I was getting healthier it was a long process starting two summers ago. It involved going to the gym, meeting a guy there that I ended up cheating on my boyfriend with who was in prison anyway (that tells you where I was at in my life.) Then I drank at least four of the seven days a week. I think there was one I just drank every night. While I was seeing this guy I was flirting and making out with several others and I tried mushrooms for the first time (not that I think mushrooms are really that bad.) Then I just made more awful choices and went to school a wreck. Relapsed for a good five or so months into my ED and just NOW got up. I found myself in many physical situations that I hadn't wanted to be in but more or less had "asked for." What a mess. This summer I started dating my really good friend and managed to like myself more but damn it was a long process. Life is funny like that, how it's a mess before it can be straightened up. You know when you get knots in something and you have to make it all loose so that you can start untying them? Well, it's like that. It's all a mess right now but once you start untying these knots it will make more sense.
ReplyDeleteI'm thinking of you and saying a prayer.
If you ever wanna talk my email is aSinforEve10@gmail.com
<3
Yea that's what we do, and even finding out the 'why' doesn't stop the want for those fixes. Just remember the 'we' in that, you're not alone in those struggles.
ReplyDeleteI think treatment must have made some kind of impact or else your vices wouldn't come back with such a fight. This is not going to be easy or quick to overcome but it is possible. Keep going, I believe in you Taylor.
You deserve all the goodness *hugs <3
My love to you always xx
This was such an emotional post to read. I'm sorry things have been so hard, but I think you did wonderfully to stick it out in treatment for 8 weeks. As melrose said, treatment must've had some impact, even if only making you more aware of your emotions. Recovery is a long journey, and the fact that you want to get better, to be normal, says a lot. When we're not self-destructing by our ED's hands, we tend to find other ways to do it, and it's a vicious cycle to break.
ReplyDeleteAnd my goodness, you look stunningly beautiful, even with shorter hair and a tinge of sadness in your eyes.
Take care of you as best you can. You'll be in my thoughts hun <3 xx
Hi,
ReplyDeleteI came across your blog and this post moved me so much I had to comment.
You have been through a LOT. I'm astounded that you have the clarity of mind to want to be normal, to want to get better. And I think that it can happen for you.
I went to a renowned psychiatric hospital for treatment, and it didn't do much for me either. EDs are hard to treat, and hospitals are more about preventing injury than actually treating a disease, in my opinion. You get in there because if you don't you'd die or get severely hurt. The hospital gets you through that time, and once you get out you're hopefully stable enough to try and help yourself, or seek help for yourself from a different source.
Have you looked for other treatment outside of the hospital?