Identifying the Calm

For the first time in months, I feel like I am at a really solid point in my recovery; a spot that I haven't felt good in in years. In my 10 year battle with anorexia, something has always lingered. Typically, it has been manifestations of my negative core beliefs. Some part of me always feels unlovable or unworthy of anything good. That tiny voice builds and builds until I ultimately relapse. Those core beliefs have defined my life since elementary school, so 15 years later, it's hard to let go of, but here I am. I feel calm.

This calm is a strange feeling. After a week of high anxiety and feeling unsafe, it all seems to have alleviated. There is no real rationale for it, but I feel like I am starting to solidify a stronger identity and idea of what kind of person I want to be. For having so many years of being lost, I am starting to figure out what I want my life to look like.

As kids, we are always asked what we want to grow up to be. Mine radically varied from ballerina to nursing to journalism to who even knows what else. I think it would be better if teachers started asking who we wanted to be. As adults, most people go into college, their first step into the "real world" to figure out what they want to do the rest of their lives. That's a huge decision to make in your late teen years.

When I first entered college, I was barely 17, about to experience another series major trauma, and had my college plan radically shifted from what I intended it to be. I was originally going to move to North Carolina to study dance and psychology  (as a back up career). I had this idea of what my life was going to look like. By the end of my first year of college, I was still living in Sheboygan, engaged to someone I had been dating for 2 months, and living in survival mode while my eating disorder and trauma consumed my mind.

So, I went through college and did pretty well. My first taste of identity came in 2010 when I studied in Madrid for a few weeks over the summer. It was my first taste of actual freedom: no parents, partner, or responsibilities to anyone but myself. I knew that my independence was fiercely important to me, and I wasn't getting that at home. I held onto that and thrived for those weeks, but came home and quickly lost it all. I fell into the same patterns and continued on.

At the end of 3 years, I was able to graduate with a double major in Psychology and Spanish and a life plan; I would be the good Navy wife. I planned to complete grad school in a year and then join my partner out in Maryland. My identity had become a path towards becoming a wife. My life had no other meaning. Yes, I had a college degree, but I was ready to give up my dreams for someone else at 20 years old. I was so blinded by dependency on another person that I didn't need to figure out who I was. I had my identity through him. Why did I have to do any work on that at all? Then, life threw me for a curve ball... again. My life plan walked out on me.

After my break up the summer after college, I was lost. No identity to call my own. I was just a girl with a 2 hour commute to grad school 3 days a week and working 2 jobs. I didn't have time to figure me out, which was a blessing and a curse. I was able to survive through work again. I took the first steps towards an identity. I decided to use the money I had been saving for a trip to see my partner, and I put it towards a flight to New York to go for the dream: auditioning for the Rockettes. That was my first glimpse of who I wanted to be. So, I decided to start a new life in Milwaukee to try and figure out who I was.

Milwaukee was both good and bad for me. The good? met the most amazing people there that I could never live without now. I got my Master's Degree. I found that counseling truly is the career for me in the long run. I had freedom. The bad? I had freedom.

After 3 years of a rough relationship, I was back on my own again after a major bout of depression and eating disorder behaviors. Then, I was introduced the bars that I could actually get into, and I was hooked. My partying ways definitely got out of control when I lived there. At my worst, I was drinking half a bottle of Jack Daniels by myself every night. I was in a major relapse and was scary skinny. My identity became grad school girl by day, alcoholic by night. When you're super busy with grad school and numbed out at night, there's no need to develop a real identity. Your behaviors define that for you. This went on and on. I (again) got into a relationship that I changed my identity for in order to be loveable. My eating disorder behaviors were encouraged, and I became dependent  (again). Once he left, I cracked. After a 3 day drinking binge, I was so broken and lost that I had no idea what to do. I knew I wanted to end it all, but it didn't feel like the right option. I knew I couldn't do that. So, here I came to St Louis.

Through treatment, you have to break away at all the survival armor and walls built up to protect this fragile identity that hasn't had the chance to grow. Somewhere, that little person is trying to get out. As I have said before, I did a lot of identity work with Travis. He really pushed me to look at who I was without my eating disorder. I was nothing. How can you live for 10 years having no clue who you are? I was a shell of a person for a long time. I had good qualities on the outside and nothing on the inside. Treatment was rebuilding and bringing the outside qualities in towards myself.

Now, I feel like I am starting to figure out who I am. I value the people in my life, especially when they are openly supportive of me. I value honesty and looking at life in a realistic, but positive way. I value loyalty as I have a lot of issues with abandonment. I value so many more things, but those are what create my identity. By living in accordance to my values, I am living in a way that I respect and feel good about. That's how I feel calm.

I'm pretty excited about the things happening in my life right now.  I feel like I am on the start of something new.  Where it will lead?  Who knows?  But for the first time in a long time,  I'm excited for the ride.

Safety

Since discharge last Friday, I've actually been doing pretty well. Not perfect on my meal plan, but I don't belive that recovery is a perfect process. I'm doing my best every day, even with my stomach issues, which have been getting better as well. Positives always need to be balanced with negatives though. I have been really struggling with anxiety and feelings of safety.

My anxiety is always there. Some days, it's really high; others, it's manageable. Lately, I've had higher anxiety days. It started on Saturday with a pretty major flashback. I haven't had a really bad one in quite a while, so it has been really overwhelming. I woke up really early on Sunday feeling very unsafe in my body and apartment. It's unnerving when you are so terrified of things that you rationally know would probably never happen. You just sit and fear and pray it calms down. None of this has been made any easier with the situations in my community right now.

Ferguson has been blowing up the news. While I am pretty close to downtown St Louis, a solid 25 minutes from there, it still has not added to my feelings of being unsafe. Because no one has any idea how wide spread things will be, I have a hard time using rationalization to calm myself down. At the same time, the likelihood of anything happening to me at this time is slim to none. Rationally, I know I am safe. Irrationally, I am waiting for someone to break through my door any second. So, it's been a difficult balance.

Through all this, I am proud to say that I have kept to my meal plan pretty well. I think it's just difficult to feel constantly afraid and have limited ways to calm down. I've been a homebody since Saturday. I have barely left my building, which is only making things more overwhelming. So, the next challenge is to actually physically battle my irrational fear rather than hide in my apartment and panic.

Fear is a powerful thing. It has the ability to shut everything down in an instant. We are wired to freeze or fly. It's our reactions to these fearful situations that determine how we move forward in life or stay stuck.

Transitions

The last week has been insanely difficult for me. After doing my trauma work on Wednesday, I have been left reeling. The nightmares every night have come back. The flashbacks have kicked up a little too. I have been isolating and just trying to move past the thoughts, but that is always easier said than done. It has also slightly derailed my meal plan, but I am working to get back on track one moment at a time; however, I am quickly approaching another transition in my life: discharging from IOP.

I am voluntarily discharging for multiple reasons. 1) My therapist is being transferred to another section of programming, so I would no longer be able to see her and would have to start again with a new therapist. 2) I am having increasing difficulty in balancing the schedule of my work demands with those of treatment. 3) I think it's time to sink or swim. That doesn't mean that all of this isn't terrifying though.

At IOP tonight, I spoke with all 3 members of my treatment team about the idea of discharging. All 3 were supportive as long as I have follow up care; this was not set up on my first discharge. My psychiatrist is offering to go through a provider list for me and help me pick someone who is not heavy handed with medication. My dietician gave me referrals, including one to the dietician I met with during PHP who had since left. But it was my therapist who did something amazing.

First of all, let me just say how much I love working with my current therapist. She really pushes me to connect to my emotions and push through when I want to shut down. She takes things at a much slower rate, so I can actually begin to process them rather than sweep them under the rug. I also have a strong level of trust with her, because I know that no matter what fucked up shit from my life I share with her, she isn't going to back down from it. It has been really beneficial for me. So, the thought of working with anyone else is really difficult right now, especially with the trauma work we have just begun.

Tonight, my therapist told me that she was willing to see me at her other outpatient clinic at a time that she fit in her schedule for me and a rate I can afford. I just started crying, because it was so amazing of her to do that for me, but it was the reason she told me that made me feel even better about it- "You have just been so brave about going back to these dark places in your life that I know you have never truly, emotionally discussed with anyone else. I think that that takes remarkable courage, and I can't release you to a new therapist to start over when you're working so hard to get through these things. I know I need to keep working with you, so I will do whatever I can to ensure that that keeps happening." And then, I cried more.

Sometimes when I am stuck in the negative thoughts of my trauma, I can forget that there are still good people in the world whose main purpose is not to hurt or abandon me; it's to help me. This was a huge reassuring moment for me, and I feel so much better about continuing on in my trauma work. It's still gonna suck, but I know I have strong support to go through it with.

So, I am transitioning out of IOP on Friday, but I am feeling ready. There are always those nerves, because you have to figure out life a little more; however, I am feeling confident that I can move forward and maybe let go of some of the darkness in my past to have an brighter tomorrow.

Prepping for Trauma Work

One of my main reasons for going to therapy is to work on the trauma that I have experienced in my life. For me, I am the type of person who has stuffed every negative feeling and event so deep within me that I have become emotionally disconnected from it. This causes nightmares, flashbacks, dissociating, anxiety, and more; however, in order to stop all these things, I have to unleash all of those things that I have stuffed; the things that are creeping up when I don't want or expect them to. So, how do we prepare for trauma work?

As I have mentioned before, I am currently going through my timeline, which has been no easy task. As we have gotten closer to my high school years and beyond, I have had this impending sense of doom and high anxiety knowing that my most severe trauma is coming, and I will have no choice but to talk about it. If I don't,  all of the bad things will continue, which would ultimately impact my ability to live in recovery. Now, I am at that point.

Tomorrow, we are beginning work on one of my biggest traumas. I spent a lot of time in PHP talking about it, as this event has had a profound effect on my ability to cope and what I choose to cope. I even did an hour long psychodrama, because it was the 9 year anniversary of that day in March. So, I have been mentally preparing for this moment over the last week or so through positive self talk ("I talked about this before. I can do it now") and telling myself that it is necessary for my recovery. It's just knowing how deeply angry and sad I am about this that terrifies me.

Here is a sparknotes version of this story, as I am not comfortable sharing all of these details on such a public platform. My sophomore year of high school, I had just moved to Maryland after a few years in Wisconsin. In March, 4 months after I had moved, someone I was close with in Wisconsin committed suicide after his battle with mental illness had gotten too hard. In hindsight, there were obvious signs that were clearly ignored by his parents. At 14, I knew something was wrong but didn't have the capacity to do anything about it, especially from another coast. This was my first major loss, which also kicked off the horrible trend of many of my friends dying way too young (He was 18). I had no idea how to cope, but that wasn't what made this so bad; it was the fact that his parents blamed for it. In their eyes, I was the reason he committed suicide.

Most people hear this story and automatically say, "What the fuck was wrong with them?" As an adult who has lost more friends to suicide since, I honestly feel like they were looking for a reason, as most people do in these cases. People always look for the reason that this person has chosen to end his or her life; however, we rarely find that answer. But 10 years ago, that insight wasn't there. At 14, I had no ability to cope with a death, let alone the responsibility for it as well, and I held onto the blame for his death for years. The worst part is that I never showed that guilt and pain. I had learned that it is wrong to show emotions, so I stuffed it deep inside me where I wouldn't have to deal with it. Then, I chose eating disorder behaviors, alcohol, and drugs to feel numb.

The thing about unpacking these feelings and trauma is that it is a tedious and delicate process. It's like unpacking that box of your grandma's china. You are so careful to unwrap each little piece, because even the slightest rushed movement could cause it to break. You can't rush through it; you have to do it one piece at a time. If you don't, everything could be ruined. Trauma is the same way.

I can honestly say I rushed through this event in my treatment the first time around. I spent 3 days talking about it and feeling that pain for the first time in 9 years, but after that, everything switched off again. This was also due to other things that had come up; however, without giving this trauma the time and care it needed, it got repositioned and packaged back up in that china box. A piece or two came out, but most of my trauma set is still there.

I think the best thing we can do when preparing to talk about trauma is to approach ourselves with kindness and compassion. These things have had a major impact on our lives, and they can't be fixed overnight. That is one thing I have to continually remind myself of. As much as I hate feeling things long term, if I don't continue to feel them, the negative effects will be worse than the feelings. Trauma happens to us. We do not cause them. We do not have responsibility for them. We should not blame ourselves. While all of these things are much easier said than done, they are important to recognize. Trauma occurs to some degree in most people's lives; however, it is our ability to discuss and work through it that helps us succeed in this journey towards recovery.

A Pound A Week

So after finally starting to feel better and working to get back on track with my meal plan, I have yet again been thrown another curveball by my treatment team. I trust them, but I hate these challenges. Because I have been sick, I lost enough weight for it to be considered a problem. While it is not my ticket to PHP, as I was not intentionally losing, it is an major roadblock in my recovery right now. My challenge is that I have to get back up to my goal weight. By doing this, I have to gain a pound a week until I reach that weight or I face being upcerted. 

Now, even for normal people, I think hearing that you have to gain a certain amount each week would be terrifying. When you have an eating disorder, that fear is magnified by 10, probably more. My rational side says that that's not a lot of weight; however, translating that into my meal plan? That's a horrible feeling. Knowing that I have to increase my intake that much more? God help

So, challenge has been issued, and I have 2 choices: gain the weight or don't? It will always be a battle of mind over matter, but this might be the biggest challenge I have faced in this journey in recovery.

One pound a week at a time...

Dance- How I Lost My Dreams to Anorexia.

This is probably the hardest blog I have written so far. It's very painful for me to discuss or even think about, which is why I don't talk about it often. But with it coming up more and more, I need to talk about it. If you know me, dance has been such a huge part of my life. It was one of the only constants I ever had growing up. Every time we moved, I was always involved in dance or something similar from city to city, state to state, country to country. Today, I came to the harsh realization that I haven't danced in over a year, which is something I don't think I ever would have thought would happen in my life, but here I am. I'm not dancing.

When I came to St Louis for treatment, I literally picked up and left everything behind. I was in such a bad headspace that I grabbed a pile of clothes from my floor into a bag (none of which even formed an outfit to leave the house in), got on a train, and tried not to look back. I left behind my job, my friends, my apartment, my car, everything. I ended up losing most of those things because of my eating disorder. To me, none of those things matter as much as dance. Losing that has been one of the hardest things for me to face. I can accept losing everything else, but this is has been really painful.

Last year, I was offered the contract of a lifetime. After so many days of auditioning, last minute trips to New York, and blood, sweat, and tears, I had finally done it; I was offered a contract to be a Rockette in New York City. It took me a few days to think about what to do. Had I taken that contract, I would have had to pick up and leave Milwaukee to move to New York City for a few months. I would have had to work another job to make it by, but it was something I had dreamed about since I was 5. I would be on stage at Radio City Music Hall. I chose to turn it down for two very big reasons- 1) I knew I would have to work a 2nd job just to make ends meet and 2) I was so deep in my eating disorder that I didn't think I would physically be able to do it. Two months had passed since my last audition, and I was down 15 pounds. I was barely able to work everyday, let alone dance a 90 minute show multiple times a week. So, I said no.

Things happen for a reason though. The show I was offered a contract for ended up being delayed, so I would have moved to New York for a few weeks of rehearsals and then, nothing. It ended up being the right choice. Little did I know that 2 months after that decision, I would ultimately lose everything anyway.

I haven't actually danced in over a year. The last gig I did was Mondo Lucha in Milwaukee, which was ninja hip hop and so much fun. For the first time in a long time, I was dancing just to have fun again; not to impress anyone or get a job. It was just for me, and I haven't gotten myself to dance since. Even in treatment, we had dance therapy, and I rarely participated. If I was in group that day, I would always sleep or zone out. It was too painful to accept that I wasn't allowed to really dance at that point in time. All I could do was eat a fuck ton of food and sit around in order to put back on all the weight I had lost. It was torture.

Even now, I haven't been able to bring myself to dance for so many reasons, which my eating disorder has a big part of. Being in front of mirrors for an hour where you have to body check to make sure your body is in the right position is incredibly trigger for me right now. All I see is fat and a body that I don't recognize when I look in the mirror. I have never been content in the way that my body looks weight restored. It makes it incredibly difficult to look in a mirror. Also, my eating disorder tells me that I can't go back to class, because I am out of shape, have no stamina, and won't be good anymore. It would be a failure for me to go, so I just avoid it. Finally, I put so much pressure on myself to be perfect in class. Dancing has always been an outlet for me, but it also has been a downfall. When I dance, I can't even describe the feeling. It feels like home; however, I feel like since I had been the best in class before, I have to live up to that in my mind, which is completely stupid. Dance is for me, not anyone else, but I still can't bring myself to do it.

I shudder in my mind to think that I won't ever dance again. Part of me truly believes it while the other can't see my life without that. Recovery has been a really painful journey so far. I have had to look at a lot of aspects of my life, past, and identity. Dance fits into all of those things, so I know in my heart that I need to reincorporate it. It's just a matter of how and when. I'm still not sure I can, but I don't think I or others would recognize me without it. So, it's sink or swim time. My challenge to myself is to take at least one class this month, because I know that I need to to prevent from going insane. I end this blog with this quote, because what is my life without dancing? Not as good as it could be.

Dance, when you're broken open. Dance, if you've torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you're perfectly free

Wake Up Call

Throughout my time in treatment and in talking to people who have successfully had longer periods of time in recovery, everyone has said that recovery is like a light switch. One day, you'll wake up and realize "What am I doing to myself?" and that's how you transition to focusing on recovery. In some ways, I agree with this; however, I don't know if I have ever truly experienced it.

The last time I was in treatment, it was my time in the hospital away from treatment that was the catalyst for my recovery. Being away from treatment made me realize that maybe I could successfully do things on my own. I didn't need to be there 6 hours a day, 7 days a week anymore. Also, being around others who were deeper in their eating disorders than me was incredibly triggering at that point.

This go around in treatment, I've been pretty stagnant. While I have been making good progress in my individual therapy, I haven't really done overly well with my meal plan or battling my eating disorder thoughts. Being of my stomach issues, I have days where I just generally give up on trying to follow my meal plan and focus on making it through the day; however, by restricting more, my body only gets worse, not better. I have more days where I am doing better on my meal plan, but I honestly don't think I have had a day where I have successfully completed all snacks and meals since I re-entered at the beginning of September. It's just trying to figure out if IOP is really helping?

Then, I received an e-mail from my therapist yesterday saying that they are threatening to discharge me because of my lack of progress and the number of days I have missed treatment to stay at work instead. I understand that. I fully admit that I have not been the most committed to treatment lately, but it is not because of my eating disorder. I think I might have had my wake up call.

In the days I have actually gone to IOP, I haven't found them the most effective. I have had more success with my individual sessions rather than the supported meals and groups. It ends up being more of a chore to go each day rather than providing the benefits that I need. So, what do I do?

Today, I feel more clarity in my mind than I have in a few months now. My eating disorder voice is quiet today. For the first time in 2 months, I have actually exceeded my meal plan, and I don't feel that guilty about it. I challenged myself by going to Target and actually spending some time in the grocery section. I attempted to avoid looking at labels and calorie counts, but still did on a few things. I bought a variety of foods that I can actually eat over time, rather than just a week. My stomach finally doesn't hurt today, even though I was sick most of last night. All in all, this is the first good day I've had in a long time. Nothing amazing has happened. Nothing has really changed. It's just a good day.

Maybe the wake up calls don't always come in when we expect them to, but it could be that the come in right when we need them, even if we don't realize it ourselves. I am a firm believer that everything in life happens for a reason, but it doesn't always make sense in that moment. Eventually, it always does. Maybe this wake up call is going to lead to bigger and better things and a healthier journey on my way to recovery.