Pitfalls

It's been an incredibly challenging week. That's the tricky thing about recovery: when things seem to be going well and you are beginning to feel comfortable with where you're at, all of a sudden pitfalls begin to appear to try and set you back. This week has been full of them.

First of all, a very unwelcome person decided to try and re-enter my life via LinkedIn. This person has not been a part of my life in quite some time because of the choices he made, ones that hurt me very badly. So, I made the decision to stop contacting him but I have never been ready to truly say I feel in order to officially end things. He has been blocked on all other types of social media; however, when I joined LinkedIn approximately 2 weeks ago in order to help support my job search, I did not think to automatically go block this person there. So, when I got a message from him asking me to add him, it was all total bullshit.

This was very triggering for me. My phone number and e-mail address have not changed in 10 years, but he could not make the choice to contact me there? And LinkedIn of all places? What the fuck? It just brought up a lot of the anger I have tried to shut out for the last few years. I had had it. Finally, I found myself with the courage to finally send the "Go Fuck Yourself" e-mail that I have never been able to do. I was always worried that, because it would be the final nail in the coffin of our relationship, it would ultimately backfire,and I would become a more damaged person from it. As I have learned in recovery though, this is not the case.

Because I kept holding onto that relationship, I was staying a damaged person. I was not able to truly process and grieve the loss like I needed to, which resulted in my constant state of being shut down. This set off my eating disorder behaviors and the vicious cycle continued. Every time I would become upset about the issue, I felt that damage more strongly than I had before. Each time I pushed it down, it simmered and grew. All the time I spent "protecting" myself was wasted on unhappiness and pain; however, I wasn't ready to do it yet. It took me a long time to get to this point, but I finally reached it. So, I hit send.

There's nothing more validating than finally telling the person who hurt you to fuck off. Those small words mean so much, because it means I'm no longer allowing him the occupancy in my heart or mind. I will no longer allow him to continue causing me pain, especially when he is no longer a part of my life. I will not allow my eating disorder to creep in and say that I need to use behaviors to cope with this loss. I am my own person who is deserving a life with only people who love and support me, not those who use me to make themselves feel better. I am taking back my life from my abuser, something that I have never been able to say until now.

One of the most important steps for me after sending that e-mail was to write a goodbye letter for myself. I waited until the next day and put myself in the position where I could do it. I used a picture of him and my journal to sit and write all of the things that I never could say. These will be things that I never will say to him, because he doesn't deserve to hear them. I did this for me and surprisingly, I didn't shut down. By giving myself the space to write the letter and using the picture, I cried for the first time in 7 years about the pain he's caused me. I cried for 45 minutes, which is something I haven't done in years, and it felt good. I even made my therapist cry when discussing it, so that's pretty damn good. The next (and most dreaded) step will be processing the letter in therapy though, which is going to be the most difficult thing I will ever have to do. Pitfalls at their finest.

The other major issue this week has been with my license. I found out last night that my counseling license is actually NOT valid in the state of Missouri, which is overwhelmingly frustrating. I have thought that I would be fine, which I clearly looked at the wrong information. So, I quit my job to return to a field that I love but cannot currently practice in until I take another graduate class. With it being the middle of the semester, I am going to have to wait until at least summer and maybe fall in order to do so. So, the internship I just started has no benefit for me and I just feel very stuck. With my stuckness came the possibility to shut down; however, for the first time in our relationship, I actually sat down with my boyfriend and cried... a lot. I've teared up and cried a little, but nothing like this. It was a really great moment, because it shows that I don't need to shut down and I am safe being vulnerable. Rationally, I know that, but it's still very uncomfortable for me to experience emotions. I am the luckiest lady to have such an incredibly patient partner.

So, now what? This is a question I don't really know the answer to at this point in time. For now, I'm just going to try and figure out a plan B. The one thing I have to keep in mind is that pitfalls will pop up everywhere. Whether it's a bad body image day or a major life changing event, life isn't perfect. Neither am I. The best I can do is rely on things outside of my eating disorder in order to keep moving forward. Even if I do use behaviors, it's better to take one step back and get up swinging than to fall back to a full blown relapse. All I can do is one day at a time.

New Beginnings

When I first entered treatment, I was wondering what my life would like like afterwards. I had 2 options: Return to Milwaukee and try to resume the life I was living without using behaviors OR I could stay in St Louis for a while and try to figure things out here. I’m really glad I chose option 2.

Although things haven’t been perfect or easy, I have a pretty peaceful life now. Milwaukee was chaotic and fueled with memories and bad choices. There, if I began struggling with behaviors, I could easily get away with them. I wouldn’t have as much accountability there and would also probably return to my hard partying ways to cope with all the changes I had just undergone. I would have been back to square 1 and probably on another train back to St Louis.

I think new beginnings are important after going through such huge personal growth and change. If we go back to the familiar but remove the eating disorder, it will always feel like something is missing. It makes the mourning period for the loss of that identity longer and harder. Also, the strength of that progress seems diminished. You’ve busted you ass in 12 weeks of treatment to go back and maybe have that work go to the wayside as the day to day routine comes back into play. New things lead to new routines.

Had I returned to Milwaukee, I would have returned to my case management position. This required me to visit clients, deliver medications, and work on paperwork. The vast majority of my work day was in my car, which made it so easy to restrict. If I had a scheduled time to meet with a client, I would make sure I didn’t have time to stop. If I just kept going, I wouldn’t be able to feel how tired or weak I was. It’s not that I didn’t love the position, because I did, but it would have been difficult to balance the requirements of my meal plan with the job specifics. However, this also happened in St Louis.

After being promoted at my last job, I relapsed. Even though my apartment was literally down the hall from my office, I found excuses to skip meals and stayed in my office to avoid eating. I got back into IOP pretty quickly, but still. New beginnings are not without their challenges.

Now, I have accepted an internship program at a private practice in order to finally begin working on my licensure hours again. I’m finally moving forward in my career, and I feel ready to do that. After leaving PHP, I knew I wasn’t ready. I needed time before being able to give therapy again, but it’s time.

While I know that this will come with its own struggles, including learning how to incorporate my meal plan into this schedule, it’s the next step in the new beginning I’ve been waiting for.

All good things come to those who wait. Be patient.

After working incredibly hard the last year on myself, I’m happy to say that those good things are coming in all the time, and I am very lucky.

Professional to Patient- How I Went From Therapist to Client.

One of the hardest things for me to tackle during my treatment and recovery process has been having to switch roles from being a therapist to being a patient. This role reversal has lead to some road blocks in my process, because it is difficult to go from working with clients on certain topics and then having to face them myself. So, how do I deal with being a therapist while in treatment?

My journey to becoming a therapist started when I was in college. Upon entering college, I was pretty set that I would double major in Psychology and Spanish in undergrad and move onto a PhD program in Clinical Psychology. This was my plan for 2 of my 3 years. Then, I took a Counseling Ethics and Methods class with my college advisor, and I was hooked. During this class, we learned about the skills required to be a counselor and what kinds of techniques worked effectively for different disorders. I remember looking forward to that class every week, because it was always new and exciting information for me. I began to question my choice of Clinical Psychology. Did I really want to do research all the time? Did I eventually want to teach in higher education? As that semester went on, my answer to both of those questions started to lean more towards a no. Also, the idea of spending 7 more years in school sounded dreadful. Then, I took a group therapy class, which I still owe my graduation to. I honestly do not think I would have graduated college if that class had not happened. My own personal growth in that class made me want to help others that way. So, I began to research graduate programs in Counseling Psychology.

My final semester of college had a lot of changes in my personal life. The relationship I was in was about to face some major changes as he chose to enter the military. I accepted that, in order to make it all still work, I would need to do graduate school close to home and then relocate to be with him after he had finished his training. So, I looked into the program at UW-Milwaukee, an hour from where I was living. For being so close to home, the program had a fantastic reputation as a great school for counseling. I looked into the work that professors were doing there and decided that this would be the program for me. So, I applied and was accepted shortly after. I was excited to start this new chapter after receiving a great foundation in undergrad. Even after my relationship ended as I was beginning grad school, counseling felt like the fresh start and new journey that I was ready to take.

My Master's degree is in Educational Psychology with a focus in Community Counseling. During my time at UWM, I took the necessary classes but also additional classes in Trauma Therapy, AODA issues, and multiculturalism. I knew that my dream population would be working with veterans, after being a military brat. Trauma Therapy has always called to me; maybe because of my own experiences, but during those classes, I knew I was in the right field. The most important component of my program was my practicum experience, which I completed at a local Mental Health/AODA outpatient clinic. Working in that clinic, while incredibly overwhelming at times, was one of my most life changing experiences.

During my practicum, I was working with about 20 clients and co-facilitating 2 groups: Seeking Safety and Suboxone Recovery Psychoeducation. I also completed intake assessments as a part-time job on the side. The first few months were difficult, as I encountered business politics. But as time went on, I began to see more clients. My clients ended up being primarily women who were using substances to cope with their significant trauma histories. These women were some of the strongest people I have ever had the privilege to work with. Many of them stayed my clients for over a year. Upon graduation, I transitioned into full-time work to begin my hours towards full licensure. At that point in time, I was given 85 clients and continued to run 1-2 groups per week. I struggled with finding the balance between work and home. I often would struggle with leaving some of the experiences from my clients at the office. This also became one of my biggest triggers.

My eating disorder throughout this 5 year period had always been present. I had had some lapses, but no major relapses. I was functioning, but I was spending a lot of time compartmentalizing my own issues that were being brought up both at school and work; however, after I graduated with my Master's, things began to get worse, and it didn't go unnoticed.

My biggest ally at my job was one of my supervisors, Jane. My first day at my practicum site was a disaster. I was caught in the middle of politics, and I ended the day on the verge of tears in her office. We had a strong bond from the start, and I always felt comfortable going to her with both professional and personal issues. As I was nearing graduation, she confronted me about the possibility of having an eating disorder as she noticed I was counting calories and rarely eating. I admitted that I had been struggling, but I wasn't ready for treatment. I credit the entire start to my recovery journey to Jane. Had she not suggested that I maybe needed treatment, I never would have gone. Granted, I didn't go in the time frame she suggested, but that idea stuck with me.

So, in the summer of 2013, I went for an intake assessment at an eating disorder clinic where they recommended I go inpatient or PHP, which I refused. Their compromise was IOP, but I never went back. I was in pretty hefty denial at that point in time, so I was convinced that I didn't really need it. As time went on, Jane continually pushed for my need to have a therapist, but I continued to avoid it. Even after I left that clinic and took a new job, I was getting texts asking if I had gotten treatment yet. It helped, because I got one of those texts right before I accepted that she was right and I needed to go.

Eventually, the intense therapy I was doing with clients began to cause some burn out. I would work 10 hours a day and go home exhausted, unable to shake the stories of my clients from the day. I used some negative behaviors to cope, including restricting and binge drinking. Couple this with the negative relationship I found myself in, and it was a recipe for disaster. After that relationship ended, I cracked, drank for 3 days, and made the call for treatment.

There is nothing stranger than going from being the person asking the questions to having to answer them. My first intake session felt like some alternate universe. I was waiting for her to stop asking questions, so I could begin asking her the same ones. It felt like the practice exercises I had done in graduate school where we were fake clients for one another. This wasn't anything like that though. I had to be a real client, because I was one. I was on the receiving end for the first time and on the verge of making a commitment to being there for the foreseeable future. It was a contract I wasn't sure I was ready to sign, which I didn't on my first intake.

As a therapist, I knew what questions to anticipate during my intake. I had spent a year and a half asking others those questions; however, I knew that if I were going to start this process, I needed to take a step back and just listen. That got horribly derailed though when the first intake woman said to me, "Well, you're a therapist. What would you say your 5 axis diagnosis is?" I was taken aback and had to say to myself, "Did that really just happen? Yes, yes it did." Needless to say, I chose not to have that woman be my therapist and sought out a different clinic for my care.

My next intake was much better, but harder as well. I walked into the waiting room, and there was my brother. So, I was already very overwhelmed entering the intake. As I spoke about my history, it became clearer that my idea of doing IOP for a few weeks and going back to Milwaukee wouldn't happen. She was pushing for 10 hour PHP, an idea I was pretty staunchly against. After all, my eating disorder wasn't that bad in my mind. We compromised at 6 hour PHP. 6 hours of treatment every day? That's what I was used to working, not doing.

The first day of treatment sucks for everyone. I think if I were to go back and poll everyone I went to treatment with, most would say that the first day is the hardest. I had to submit myself to numerous appointments where I would have to tell my story multiple times and admit that maybe I had a problem. I had a new found respect for my clients who used to have multiple appointments a day at the clinic. I shared the same thing 4 times to 4 new faces and was exhausted by the end of it. The second day was the beginning of my new scheduled programming. 2 snacks, lunch, and 3 groups in the 6 hours a day I would be there. Thus began my new life as a patient.

I was very resistant to this role reversal at first. I don't think my first two weeks at McCallum really did anything, because I was so set on the idea that I would be returning to Milwaukee by the end of the 30 day leave I was granted. I couldn't just leave my work. I had clients and responsibilities to them. I had my apartment. I had friends. I had my life in Milwaukee. So, I stayed in my little bubble of denial, which solidified even more when I was upped to 10 hours a day. I couldn't be too comfortable in the patient role, because I had to go back to being the therapist in just a few short weeks. I couldn't get out of practice. Eventually, I came to the harsh realization that I couldn't go back to Milwaukee. I needed to stay and do treatment the right way, not just run away from my problems like I had before. That's the moment when I accepted that I needed to be the patient, not the professional... for now.

One of the hardest parts of this transition for me were some of the groups. The groups were a variety of process, psychoeducation, and experiential. Process groups are the type where you discuss your feelings and provide feedback and support to one another. Psychoeducation groups are where you discuss different types of coping skills, educate about disorders, etc. Experiential groups are where you use activities for expression, including: art therapy, dance, yoga, music, etc. The vast majority of these groups were psychoeducation with a particular focus on Dialetical Behavioral Therapy skills.

As a therapist, I spent 5 semesters and a lot of money on getting the education to be able to provide psychoeducation to my own clients. As a client, I was on the receiving end of information that I had already learned. This made many groups torturous. It was even more frustrating when I could explain some concepts better than therapists or was asked to do so, if they were struggling. We would be given worksheets in groups that I had previously given clients in my Recovery group. Substance Abuse and Eating Disorder Recovery share a lot of similar concepts and techniques; however, substance abuse often encourages abstinence in recovery. Using abstinence in Eating Disorder Recovery is what keeps you in treatment. So, every day, there would be multiple groups that I would have to sit in and listen to concepts I already knew. My worst day was when I had to step in for a therapist, because she was literally doing nothing while someone in group shared something incredibly difficult and triggering. All the therapist could do was stare at the floor and say, "That must have been really hard." I stepped in and provided the support from a therapist perspective to give insight and support. This created this internal conflict of therapist vs patient even stronger. I felt that I couldn't just be a client.

I would talk to my individual therapist about these struggles, particularly because I was so livid at the therapist that day. My therapist would often validate that it is difficult to step out of that role, because I spent years training for and doing it. No one really stays in this field unless they're good at their jobs. It gets to be too draining if you're not and frustrating since your clients don't make a lot of progress; however, my therapist called me out. My personal favorite response was, "Well, since you know everything from school, why are you here? Why aren't you out in the real world using it?" Touche. There's that whole idea of "Practice What You Preach;" however, the vast majority of us suck at it. She encouraged me to take things as they were: I was a patient. I was here to be receptive to treatment and the information being given to me. My identity still had a therapist component, but I needed to make space for a patient component, especially if I had any real hopes of staying in recovery long term. She encouraged me to look at myself as my own patient. "If you had a client in your shoes, what would you say to him/her?" Followed by: "If you can say that to them, why can't you say that to yourself?" She had a pretty solid point, but I still found myself judging the techniques she was using in my sessions.

It's not like I could forget all the training I had. There's no way to just shut off that information that you learned in school and make it sound brand new in treatment. Wouldn't that be nice? But there is a way to make a compromise. I did and continue to remind myself that, while I know these concepts and skills, there's always something to learn. One of my favorite things about the counseling field is the amount of collaboration between colleagues. Whenever I would find myself at a roadblock with a client, I could turn to my coworkers and supervisors who always had some alternative ideas. There's never just one pathway to a solution. There can also be multiple solutions. That's what treatment is too.

Becoming the client not only made me admit and discuss my problems and trauma, it grounded me in that, even though I am a professional, I am not the expert. No one is. Every client is different, and I'm not excluded from that. That outside perspective that I used to get from coworkers, I now get from my therapist. I have insight on both a professional and personal level on my own experiences, which has been extremely helpful in sessions, but I can't do it alone. Also, using my professional knowledge, I have some insight on what type of therapist is best for me. I struggle with therapists that I can predict what technique they will use next. I need a therapist who isn't afraid to call me on my bullshit and does not just sit back and wait for me to come to the conclusions. Silence is not a technique that works with me, because I too have been trained how to sit comfortably in it until a client is ready to talk. I have had many a mandated client who would eventually start talking, because they hate the silence. Things like this help me become a better client and, in turn, a better therapist.

Going from the therapist to the client has given me more insight than any job or classroom experience ever could. I have a new level of empathy and respect for anyone who will sit in front of me as a client, because it truly takes an incredible amount of strength to get to that chair, let alone be willing to talk when you get there. I have had to experience things I put my clients through: talking about my trauma, fear of taking and dislike of psychiatric medications, being sent to the psych ward after admitting suicidal ideations, reading and signing treatment plans that I didn't 100% agree with, and, most importantly, facing my mental health issues head on. It also gave me the insight that I was not ready to go back into practicing immediately after leaving treatment. I needed to take a break from giving therapy after completing so much of my own. This break has continued, but I believe it is one of the main factors that has kept my focus on recovery.

Jane used to tell me that she believed it should be mandated that all therapists have their own therapist. It goes back to that idea of practicing what you preach. If you aren't willing to see your own therapist, is it hypocritical to expect your clients to be completely open to your services? I don't have an answer to that question, but I know that I will never practice again without having my own therapist. Too many things are triggered for me in doing trauma therapy for me to be the best therapist I can be without one.

While my transition from therapist to client was not an easy task, it was necessary. Since I have not returned back to the counseling field yet, I cannot say for sure how my role reversal back to professional will be, but I do know that my identity as a client will maintain and continue to make me the best therapist I can be.

Meal Plans and Vacations

I think I learned that meal plans and vacations don't go together. I just spent a weekend out in Washington, DC visiting some of my dearest friends from high school, which was a fun weekend, but learning to go off schedule on my meal plan and without calorie counts was overwhelming.

Ever since I've learned my counts, I feel like I have slipped back into some bad habits. Counting was like a religion to me when I was really bad. I counted and measured every single calories that entered my body and punished myself by compensating if I went even 1 calorie over. Now, I still obsess over my calories in hopes to get to a level my dietician and therapist are okay with so I can get on a maintenance meal plan for a while. I currently hate how my body looks and feels, but I am trying to remind myself that this is what I need to do for this moment. But now, I can't seem to function without counting every calorie again; it's just on a bigger scale.

So, going on vacation is no easy task. I have my regimented 10, 12, 3, 5, and 7 eating times. Everyday at those times, my recovery record rings on my phone, and I am prepared with something to eat. Not that simple when you're out doing things and trying to relax. It's even worse when you have more limited options and unknown calorie counts for your meal plan. It's just really hard.

So, I just did what I could. I feel like I didn't really lose any weight, which I guess is a good thing, but I feel very off track. I know rationally, I'm probably not that bad, but to go back on my regimented schedule feels terrifying today. It's back to that total control, which I spent so many weeks in therapy trying to let go of. All I want is to eat normally and not feel like a crazy person if I don't know the calorie counts for one snack.

I have a really difficult time with this in recovery, because I feel like there are so many contradictory statements. We're supposed to let go of the control of restricting, but we still have to monitor every piece of our intake to report to our dieticians and figure out what meal plan is best. We aren't supposed to obsess a out food, but we have to in order to stay in recovery. We can't exercise, but it's worse for our body image and health if we don't. I constantly feel like I am in a Catch-22 and a no win situation. How do you solve that?

I'm becoming increasingly more frustrated with this whole process. It makes me not want to see my dietician any more, because I feel like it's more damaging to my psyche to continue to go; however, my therapist won't continue to see me without her. Again, another no win. I just can't help but think that this might never get easier, and I will have to fight this every single day for the rest of my life, which might be the worst feeling of all.

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.

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.

On Track and Giving It All Away.

Things have been really intense lately. After going through the trials and tribulations of Tuesday, I have been trying really hard to get back on track, which hasn't been easy. Once you start restricting again, your body absolutely hates you when you try to put food in it again, which is why it's so easy to stay in that pattern of restricting once you start. My gastroparesis has flared up big time. My stomach doesn't really know what to do with food right now, so that's been difficult. Every time I eat, I either get full or stomach pain really quickly. The physical part of my eating disorder is only one small portion though.

The mental part has been increasingly difficult with the more trauma work I do in therapy. On Friday, I spent a lot of time discussing the year that set the foundation for everything else in my life: 7th Grade. While I did experience trauma prior to this year, this year was the basis for the majority of my core beliefs, coping, and how I view myself. So, spending 45 minutes talking about that trauma is emotionally and physically exhausting. My therapist had a lot of really solid points though; things I had never thought about, which was awesome. All I can do is take things one moment at a time.

This week has made me really look at giving. I'm starting to learn that I give myself away without really giving anything away at all. I have the ability to give away my feelings, thoughts, and behaviors to others without revealing anything about myself. This is such an ingrained, internal process that I often don't realize I am doing it anymore. I typically I have given myself away to so many people and things in my life that didn't deserve me at all. In my head and my heart, all the space is occupied by others, and I don't leave space for myself. I literally give all of myself away.

I have given my heart to people who don't deserve it. I have given my thoughts to negative things. I have given my time and energy to things that I never needed to, because they make my life worse. I have given love to those who could never give it back to me. I have given my everything to things that don't truly matter in life. But worst of all, I have given everything to my eating disorder, because it was the one thing I felt could keep me going and helped me from not giving everything away. I have successfully done all of this while keeping my trauma in a private room at the back of my heart. I have never truly given myself away, because no one in my life knows all that's back there. I'm not even convinced that I do anymore.

I'm starting to learn that I need to be more careful about who I give myself to. I am realizing that I give things to those who don't deserve them or who don't match what I want. I am giving my everything to work, because it helps keep going. I continue to give myself to my eating disorder, even though I know it's wrong. I just give and give and give, but I hold onto the things that destroy me.

So, time to stop giving away myself so easy. I am at the point where, when I do give, I am losing everything, because it feeds my eating disorder. We all know my eating disorder destroys everything. I think I am starting to learn what parts of myself I am willing to give away. Because I am learning to accept and embrace the things that have happened to me rather than blame myself for them, I am more comfortable giving those things to others. I am learning that maybe giving those parts of me to other people are way more powerful than giving the version with a wall around her heart. Maybe that's how I get to have a more fulfilling life and get away from my eating disorder.

How Important is Recovery?

I have honestly been really struggling lately. It is making me wonder how worth it this whole process is. Is it worth spending 10 hours a week in therapy? Is it worth being watched for 3 meals a week and having to talk about how I feel about it afterwards? Is it worth unleashing all this trauma in me that has never been dealt with? Is it work spending 3 nights a week in therapy when I could be doing other things? Is it worth having feelings? Is it worth having to document everything I eat for my dietician to look over? Is it worth going on medications for? What is recovery really worth? When I get really discouraged, I often want to say "Fuck It" and just move on. I would quit treatment, have free time at nights, and just live with my ED.

My body image has been horrible this week. I went out with a coworker last night and had to change 4 times before I was okay with leaving the house. She finally had to say, "Stop. You get to change one more time and then after that, we need to leave. You look fine." I just look in the mirror and see stretch marks from weight restoration, stomach fat, lines from my clothes where they don't totally fit anymore, and just feel disgusting. How do you even get over that mental hurdle? I hope that one day my brain can see that I am human and that my body shape is fine, but I really don't think it ever will. Then, I just am so overwhelmed with my trauma and anxiety that it makes me want to curl up in a ball and just shut down. I can't handle thinking about it anymore. Anticipating treatment and having to talk about these things every night is making my anxiety unbelievably high. I have started shaking again and have had panic attacks. It's been really difficult. So, why not just give up? How important is recovery anyways?

Even when I have these awful days, I try to recognize the positives in recovery. I can't always see these things as positive or even that important, but they still exist. Recovery is worth it, because:

• I have enough energy to make it through a day without having to take a nap.
• I can better focus on things I have to get done and accomplish.
• Long term goals seem possible.
• I'm not isolating from friends and family.
• I am not passing out everyday.
• My hair has stopped falling out and my nails are growing. 
• I am not always doubled over in pain when I do eat something.
• I don't have the body of a small child anymore. 
• I can enjoy the little things in life a little bit more.
• Clothes look better, because they're not hanging off of bones. 
• I don't feel the need as much to turn to drugs or alcohol to numb out.
• I don't feel so empty all of the time. 
• I sleep better.
• I have less anxiety.
• I don't have this obnoxious voice screaming my negative core beliefs in my head.

I could go on and on about all of these. There are so many reasons why recovery is important, but the most important one will always be:

• I have my life back.

Selfish vs Selfless

Today in group at treatment, someone talked about being selfish versus being selfless. These two words hold significant weight in the way that we think, feel, behave, etc towards ourselves and others. Selfish is when we are totally focused on our own needs, and selfless is complete focus on the needs of others. In an ideal world, everyone should have a balance of both. We need to focus on our own needs, but also look at the needs of others in order to maintain relationships. My eating disorder completely clouds this.

When I am in a full blown relapse, I tend to be very selfless in a selfish way. How is that even possible? I become very selfless in order to escape the battle in my head. Basically, I am using my selflessness as a way to be selfish. I do it to fulfill my needs, because I cannot handle what is going on in my life. So, I turn to others as a way to be selfish. It doesn't mean that I do not care about others and do not genuinely want what's best for them; however, I do tend to become enveloped in other people's lives and focused on them 100%. Most of my relationships have started in the midst of relapses, because I wanted to give someone else all of the attention in order to not have to focus on myself. This is something I have had to be mindful of in this process. I have found myself running to online dating as a way to take the focus off of myself. So, I have to monitor myself when meeting new people. As the great movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind said, "Why do I fall in love with every woman I see who shows me the least bit of attention?" Change woman to man and that's me. 

Using others to help me cope with my issues is potentially one of the most selfish things a person can do. It leads to an extreme amount of guilt and difficulties in my relationships, because I don't realize how much I am hurting others by using them for my coping. It also tends to push people away, because I become dependent on them to the point of unbearable. I become too much and people walk out. If they don't walk, I push them away by becoming clingy and then shutting down when a response is given. None of my needs can ever be fulfilled by others, even though I wish they could be. I become selfish, because even though I am attempting to fulfill their needs by doing anything I can, I am not taking care of my own needs, which causes everything to fall apart. So, how do I break this cycle?

In a lot of ways, I have to become selfish for the right reasons. I need to focus on my own personal needs and self-care in order to become a person capable of being selfless with no expectations in return. This involves a great deal of therapy and commitment to incorporating self-care. I have to let myself take breaks and process things. I have to take on only what I can handle and step away from things I cannot. I must take better care of myself and that includes following my meal plan. So, what's my biggest first step that I need to take?

I asked my new therapist to begin going through my timeline and actually talking about it in great detail. I did this the first time I was in treatment in 2 ways. The first was with my individual therapist, but we only hit the highlights and overlooked a lot of the smaller issues, which add up. The second was in a group; however, I have a really difficult time allowing myself to feel the events that have happened in my life. It feels like I am telling someone else's life like I am giving a biography report in school. I try not to connect on it, because my life is exhausting with the amount of trauma I have experienced. To feel all that trauma again is awful. That's the purpose of my eating disorder: to serve as a wall between me and all that crap. Without my eating disorder, all of that comes back and becomes so overwhelming that I shut down and relapse. Unfortunately, it's not enough to have insight as to what happens. Something has to be done about it.

It's time to move forward. It's time to allow myself to experience all the feelings I stuffed down deep inside, because they were too much to bear. It's time to accept that these feelings are okay. They are not bad, just scary. It's time to take away the blame of the things I don't deserve to blame myself for. It's time to heal. It's time to tear down the wall of my eating disorder and create a new whole self that can process the pass and emotionally heal.

Gratitude

When I was working as a therapist, one of my favorite/most powerful groups with my recovering addicts was a discussion and activity on gratitude. America has such a work yourself to death type attitude, which is something I have adopted as well, with serious costs. So, sometimes we need to take a step back to look at the little things we miss when being so busy. It helps us to gain insight that things might feel crazy and out of control, but we really do have good things in our lives to be grateful for.

In this group, we would talk about gratitude: what it is and what it means to us. Clients would often say that these things got lost in focusing on their recovery, especially because the things they were grateful for would often be the things that they were most terrified to lose if they relapsed. It led to the realization that we sometimes are so anxious about losing these things that it leads to us pushing them away. So, we can take a step back to say what we're grateful for in order to appreciate what is always there through our struggles. I would have clients take a brown paper lunch bag and 10 slips of paper to list the things they were grateful for. We would then go around one by one to share some of the things we listed. So, in dealing with my anxiety today, I am listing my 10 things:

1) My family. They drive me completely and totally batshit crazy sometimes, but honestly, I would never have gone to treatment without their support. They allowed me to pick up and leave everything to come to St Louis from Milwaukee. They helped cover my rent. They communicated with my job to figure out my time off. They actively participated in family days to learn more about how to help me. I am grateful that we are a close unit, which wasn't that way for the majority of my life, and how they look out for me regardless of circumstances or how much I screw up.

2) My friends. The people who keep me most sane. I am very lucky to have developed the friend group I have in my adult life. It is made up of so many unique crazies, but I wouldn't have made it through most of my trauma without them. Honestly, their love and support has kept me around for as long as I have. In my darkest nights, I have talked with friends who have listened to me cry, freak out, and process what has happened. They have also given me wonderful memories, laughter, and happiness. I consider my friends my second family, and I wouldn't be able to get through all this without them.

3) Therapy. I am grateful for the opportunity to be on the other side of the counselor/client relationship. That hour of time every week to help me actually say the things I have stuffed for so many years has been life changing. I try so hard to not feel emotions that it is comforting to have a safe outlet where I can share them when I am ready. Some days, I really hate it. I hate being pushed to actually share my feelings, because it makes me very uncomfortable to experience such strong emotions; however, I know in the long run it's helpful.

4) Work. I am lucky to have wonderful coworkers and a job that allows me to leave every day to go to treatment. It has also given me a place to live independently and be on my own again.

5) Traveling. In moving so many times, I am lucky enough to know people all over the world. So, I can travel to go see these people or just to get some time on my own. My study abroad experience was one of the most life changing opportunities for me. I picked up and left Wisconsin by myself to spend 4 weeks in Madrid where I knew no one. Traveling either with friends or by myself allows me to take risks and help build my identity.

6) Music. One of my primary coping skills. It is such a powerful thing that can be used for coping, memories, parties, and so much more. I am grateful for something so simple that I can just put on and take a mental break from the world.

7) The past. While I really hate reminders of the past, especially at shitty moments, it has truly shaped me into the person I am today. I have learned that while I can't change it, I can take those life lessons and adapt them to current day situations. History repeats itself, and if we don't learn from it, nothing changes.

8) Love. I truly wish that everyone can experience love in their lifetime, because there are so many different types of it. The love we have for friends, family, relationships, life, etc. changes a person. One of the core beliefs of my eating disorder is that I am unloveable. One of my best challenges of this is looking at the outpouring of love I received through my journey in treatment and continue in my daily battles. Even though I might not be "in love" now, the opportunities are there in due time, and I am optimistic for what may come.

9) Education. My education is very important to me. I worked very hard to get my Bachelor's in 3 years and at 20 and even harder to get my Master's at 22. While I am not really using my degrees at my current job, it is something that no one will ever be able to take away from me. I earned those degrees and can celebrate that accomplishment. It may just be a sheet of paper, but it symbolizes a part of my identity that I hold very close to me.

10) Life. At 23, I have come close to successfully taking my own life multiple times, even as recently as this year. While life has not been the easiest, I am grateful to have one, especially when thinking of the friends I have lost theirs too soon. I am grateful to have the opportunities to learn from my mistakes and figure out this life one day at a time. Losing it to my eating disorder can't be an option anymore. I think I am learning that being thin doesn't mean life is better. If anything, my eating disorder makes my life worse, because I take all these things for granted.

Today I chose to be grateful and remember that life with my eating disorder makes these things that much harder. I am grateful to be on this journey in recovery, even though it isn't perfect. It's life.

Eating Disorder: 1; Heidi: 0

My eating disorder thoughts are kicking my ass this week. I just feel very overwhelmed with racing thoughts and negative self-talk. It's been causing me to over analyze meals and monitor my intake/calorie count. My urges to undo have also been strong. I haven't, but it's been a little overwhelming. I hate how you can go from peace of mind over the weekend to complete chaos during the week.

I've had a lot of negative body image this week too. I just put on clothes and feel completely gross. I wonder why anyone would ever look at me or touch me. I feel very overweight and fat. I see nothing but fat in the mirror, and that makes it really hard to connect with anyone. It's a really hard concept for others to grasp, so it causes me to isolate. I am trying not to do so by going out with friends, but it's been hard to completely engage.

Last night, I put on clothes to go to karaoke with some coworkers, and I just felt awful about myself. The guy I was with said that I looked great, but those eating disorder thoughts kept getting louder and louder. I finally had to change into something different, because I couldn't handle the noise in my head. It's completely and totally exhausting. 

I hate these weeks where it feels like the only option is to completely succumb to those thoughts and restrict until I waste away on my own. It just feels shitty. All I want to do is go take a nap and not deal with anything.

One day, one hour, one minute, one second at a time...

Better

Better is such a loaded word for me. To me, it can mean so many different things. Even Webster's Dictionary has 5 (!) definitions for it! These 5 are- 1) Greater than half; 2) Improved in health or mental attitude; 3) More attractive, favorable, or commendable; 4) More advantageous or effective; and 5) Improved in accuracy or performance. Better has also impacted my eating disorder, perfectionism, and own self-worth. I look at those 5 definitions that Webster gives and can see myself and my eating disorder in all of them. So, how do we break it down?

The first definition, greater than half, applies to my entire life. I can honestly say that my mental health problems, trauma, and eating disorder have been present for the better half of my life. Better to me in this case is just sad. The better half of my life? It's insane to me that I have spent 15 years of my life hating and blaming myself for so many things that were beyond my control or ability to comprehend as a child. To me, this is the saddest better, because it puts into perspective just how much time my life has been consumed with eating disorder thoughts and behaviors.

The second definition, improved in health or mental attitude, is a great milestone for me. I can honestly say that, even though I am truly struggling in my journey in recovery, I am BETTER than I was in February when I entered treatment for the first time. This is my proudest better. It is proof to me that I can fight through anything and, even if that fight is still going on, I can improve upon myself to make positive changes in my life that will make the next chapter in my life extraordinary.

The third definition is what my eating disorder makes everything about: better. If I am "better," that means I am pretty, smart, loveable, and actually deserving of some worth. I am enough. This also boils down to comparisons though. This better to me is my Eating Disorder, but I am not defined it Everyone around me is. That girl walking down the street is better than me, because she is so thin and pretty. She's better. I did not graduate at the top of my class. Everyone above me is better than me. My boyfriend left me to focus on himself. His life is better without me than with me. I never allow myself to be deserving of that better. This is one of the biggest parts of my treatment right now, but one of the hardest. I often wonder if I will ever be better enough for me not to compare myself to anyone else. Somewhere in me, I hope that I will be, but I know that takes time and becoming more comfortable with myself. I need to create an identity surrounding this new transitioned person, which is way easier said that done.

The fourth definition is how I view my life with my eating disorder, better. To me, my eating disorder has always symbolized a place of safety, control, known, home, comfort, etc. I could attach most positive adjectives to how my Eating Disorder has helped me in my life. To me, anorexia has always been the better coping skill. It is the one thing that I know is guaranteed to make me feel better. I know that if I am having a bad day, all I need to do is skip 1 meal and I will automatically feel a little a better. To me, restricting is a better coping skill than anything else. How do you do better when you feel like you know the best solution for you? Time, patience, and an open mind are the best first steps, because something better and healthier is out there.

Finally, the last definition is a dichotomy for me: improved in accuracy or performance. My Eating Disorder mind sees this as "You can always do better" and applies it to school, work, life, appearance, any little thing. My healthy mind sees it as "You are doing better" and applying it to things like: my meal plan, less restricting, less exercising, fewer mistakes, etc. This goes back to my last blog about the War in My Mind. This constant battle of fighting ED mind vs Healthy Mind. By using challenges and evidence to focus on having more rational thoughts, I am better. I am no longer completely consumed by my eating disorder. I recognize it as a separate entity, which is a huge deal for me. It is leading to a better life for me.

Overall, I am learning to accept and incorporate all 5 versions of better. Although some of these definitions define a negative part of my life and a strong portion of my Eating Disorder, that positive side is there, even if I can't always see it. I just know that I deserve a life without hating myself everyday; a life where I don't analyze every bite of food or every calorie. I know that life is there, and it will be better.

War in My Mind

What do you do when you are fighting an internal battle all day every day? Every waking moment of my day, I am having all these different thoughts racing through my brain. ED thoughts. Healthy Mind thoughts. Work thoughts. Personal thoughts. More ED thoughts. Negative thoughts. Hopeless thoughts. Fight through it thoughts. Work thoughts. All of the thoughts. All of the anxiety. Every day is like a war in my mind. Those few moments of peace where my brain isn't racing are becoming harder to find. So, what do I do?

Every good soldier comes equipped with tools. As a therapist, I taught clients about their tool kits of coping skills that are all readily accessible. The only problem with this is that you can't always be doing coping skills all day every day. There's some level of coping with sitting with the war, but we all have other responsibilities that can't always be shaken off to focus on a coping skill 100%.  Blogging has become one of my primary coping skills. It has become an outlet for me to put those thoughts out of my head, rather than letting them circle. It's also been really validating sharing my experiences with other people; however, I can't always drop what I am doing to write a blog. The battle continues.

Once I figure out what tool is best for me in that moment, I have to fight the hardest battle of all: challenging the thoughts in my head while using that skill to keep my anxiety at a somewhat manageable level. My biggest struggle is that many of my thoughts are irrational, which stem from irrational core beliefs. My own personal theoretical orientation is Rational Emotive Behavioral Therapy, which believes that mental health problems stem from irrational core beliefs, which impact our emotions and behaviors. It's full of fun phrases like "Should"ing over yourself (Telling yourself you "should" do something, even if it is damaging to you) and "Musts" ("I must be the best and win other's approval," "Others must treat me the way I want to be treated or they're terrible people," and "I must get what I want. I musn't get what I don't want. But if I don't get what I want, it's terrible.) All of these apply to me pretty well, especially the Shoulding. Most of these are pretty irrational. So, how do I challenge them?

Evidence is really important to challenging my irrational thoughts. I feel like I am doing a horrible job at work, and I am going to be fired, because I am doing such a bad job and can't keep up with it while at treatment. None of this is true. I'm definitely overwhelmed with trying to balance the demands of work and my recovery; however, evidence shows me that my thoughts are irrational. Proof: I got a raise this month. I get praise and validation from my coworkers. I have not missed a deadline on any assignments since returning to treatment. That evidence helps me challenge my irrational thought and become at peace with a rational one. This is a pretty exhausting process though.

The average person has about 40-50 thoughts per minute (Thanks Google). If every one of those thoughts I have is irrational, how much challenging do I have to do? An insane fucking amount. That's exhausting just thinking about it! It does get easier though. The more challenging I do, the easier it gets, especially for repeat thoughts. I have some of the same general thoughts everyday, which are not limited to: "If I eat that, I am going to get fat and be worthless." "That person in the mirror is fat and disgusting." "You're doing such a bad job, because you can't do this work fast enough." "You forgot to schedule these things for those kids, so you obviously suck at your job." "No one will ever love you, because you're gross and ugly." "You clearly can't take care of yourself, because you've let yourself go." "Don't feel happy. You don't deserve that." I could go on forever...

I think the most important thing is to continue fighting the war. There's that old saying that says something to the effect of "You might not win the battle, but you can still win the war." Each day is a new battle. We're never really sure what might hit us at any given moment; however, persistence in fighting each individual battle, even if we lose some, will help us win the war against our eating disorders and continue on a new journey in recovery.

Connecting to Support

I have had a very difficult time connecting with my support system lately, which is part of my relapse. I have been isolating quite a bit, because I just do not want to admit to others that I am struggling. My ED mind also doesn't want people to see how fat I am. I have been stuck in my brain fighting this battle day in and day out, which has prevented me from speaking to others. This isolation has only allowed my ED behaviors and thoughts to get worse. So how do you break the cycle?

I have been working hard to try and leave my comfort space more and more. My living situation is unique as I live in the same building where I work. My office is literally 10 doors away from my apartment. So, when I am working a lot, there are days I literally don't even leave this building. Going to treatment has helped alleviate this a little bit and allowed me to connect to others more; however, IOP is a weird situation, because everyone has different days on/off, which leads to little cohesion. So, I have typically just been in my office and my apartment, only interacting with coworkers minimally. I have been consciously trying to accept more invitations from friends and family to leave my building. Otherwise, I just lay in bed most of the day when not at work. Yesterday was a really powerful example of how much better connecting with support can make you feel.

I ended up going to my mom and stepdad's for the afternoon and dinner, because they have been pretty concerned about me. My brother and his fiance went as well, which is always helpful, because they serve as a buffer from triggering comments for me. It was nice to have the support through a meal, and even when my stomach felt like it was going to shred open, they were able to distract me from it. Also, my brother and I decided to take a spontaneous road trip to Milwaukee next weekend, so I cannot wait to reconnect with my bestie, favorite girl, and friends, even if it is only for a day.

I also skyped with my best friend of 10 years. She is one of the few people who was by my side while much of my trauma was happening. We hadn't talked in a bit, because life has been insane for both of us; however, every time we talk, it feels like no time has passed at all. She is one of my biggest support systems, and reconnecting with her reminds me why I came down to treatment in the first place; so that I would have the ability to be that happy person that I could be in between my traumas and relapses. That girl is still in there somewhere.

My day ended with a reunion of some ladies I was in treatment with. These ladies are some of the strongest, most wonderful people I know. They have been with me through it all, so it always feels comfortable with them. They're also not afraid to call me on my ED, which is super helpful, especially right now. Talking with them about having to go back and dealing with my ED was awesome, because they have been there. It's also nice to go back and laugh at all the crazy shit that happened at MP, because what fun is it to go crazy if you can't go back and laugh about it? We also decided to take a road trip to visit one of our favorite ladies at college in a few weeks, so I absolutely cannot wait for that.

It's important to connect to support, because it makes you feel less alone in the world. While your ED constantly tells you that you're not good/pretty/thin/lovable/smart/etc enough for anybody, your support system is there to tell you that you are. You're more than good/pretty/thin/lovable/smart/etc enough for them, and they are there for you unconditionally. So, when you feel alone, connect with your support, because they're the best rationale to fight that irrational ED.

Before, During, and After

I've been thinking a lot about the Before and After moments of my life. At 23, I have had some pretty intense turning points in my life, and the ways I chose to cope with those things have also impacted what follows. This lead to me looking at my Eating Disorder. After my first major episode at 13, I have had 4 serious relapses at 15, 17, 19, and 22. All of these came as a reaction to some of the most serious, traumatic moments in my life. So, what happened before?

Before my relapses, I genuinely felt like I was in a good place in my life. At 13, I had had some really difficult moments, but I had finally settled in to a new school, new friends, and became very active in musical theatre. I felt like I was genuinely settling into what could be comforting for me. At 15, again, I had just moved to a new school in Maryland and was finding this amazing group of friends, who truly supported me through everything and still do. At 17, I had just started college. I was ready for my new start to find out who I truly wanted to be and what difference I could make in the world. At 19, I was in my final semester of college, about to embark on a new life with my fiance and looking to graduate school to become a therapist. At 22, I felt like I was in a great relationship, working a wonderful job, and becoming content with the idea of settling in Milwaukee.

Before my relapses, I was believed that the world wasn't such an awful place. I believed, even though all these horrible things that continued to build in my life had happened, that the good things in my life would stick around and that in some inconceivable way, I would be loved.

Before my relapses, I let the weight of my past build up inside me. I let the blame of things were in no possible way my fault sit on my heart, crushing it with guilt day in and day out. I let the shame of my trauma and my reactions to it eat me alive. I let my own self-hatred for my actions cycle in my brain in every quiet moment. I sat in silence and allowed this to eat me alive. I found solace in myself as people around me let me

Then, the things I saw as unthinkable happened... My dad went to Kuwait... My friend killed himself... My dad walked out on my family the day my grandmother died... My fiance left me... I finished graduate school and my trauma came flooding back.

And then, I relapsed.

During my relapses, I would restrict as often as possible. I weighed food to make sure that every serving size was to the correct ounce. I would count to 500 each day and hate myself if I went even 1 calorie over. I body checked incessantly. I would stand in front of the mirror for hours a day. I would pinch and pull and suck my body in, praying that the things I hated about it would magically go away. I yelled at myself for being so fat, disgusting, unlovable, and undeserving of this life. I contemplated taking the bottle of pills to make my peace, to make things easier on my loved ones who saw me wasting away. I would drink with my boyfriend, Jack Daniels, until I felt no pain. I rarely slept because the nightmares and anxiety would be so bad. I would do cocaine until my nose bled, feeling like I was invincible, knowing that my heart racing would help me lose weight. I skipped my heart medicine to have my heart race, not caring if I passed out. I isolated, hoping to just waste away in peace. I fought a daily losing battle against myself to the voice in my head saying, "You are not meant for this world being as fat as you are."

Then, friends and family reached out to help. Opportunities to bring me out of myself arose. New cities, jobs, and friends invited me to step outside of my mind. Happiness came in in a variety of ways, some that I didn't even know were possible. Learning that I was not alone and accomplishing things to better myself helped me focus on the positive. At 22, I entered treatment for the first time to process the things I struggled through the previous 10 years. The light came on, and I could see a way out of the darkness I had been living in.

After my relapses, I still struggle with thoughts every day. That little voice in the back of my head telling me how fat, worthless, and unlovable I am never goes away, but it does get quieter eventually. I see my body as a part of me, not some separate entity that my mind just lives in. I gained weight to become a healthy size, which makes things easier and harder all at the same time.  I have to consciously make the decision to eat every day. I make the choice not to ignore my hunger cues. I talk about my emotions instead of stuffing them. I can say with some degree of certainty but not total absolution that I am not responsible for things that have happened in my past. I acknowledge that these things are not my fault. I am learning that my identity is an ever-changing thing, but I am figuring it out, because I recognize that I am not my eating disorder.

 On the left is December 2013 during my last major relapse and on the right is August 2014, 4 months after ending treatment.

My life has been largely colored by trauma and coped with by anorexia. Life is a constant series of befores, durings, and afters. Every moment we have is an after of another, but the before to the next big adventure. But by learning from our preparations for befores, our reactions for durings, and our solutions for afters, life in recovery just might be manageable.

How Being a Military Brat Influenced my Eating Disorder

One of the biggest pieces of my treatment earlier this year was identity work. I have a very difficult time focusing on myself, because I feel very lost and second guess a lot of the choices I have made to end up where I am today. I also have a very difficult time accepting things that make me stay in place for too long, but that's part of being a military brat.

My entire life, I have had very little consistency. Growing up as a military kid, you're constantly moving and adapting to new people, situations, and lives. As a kid, I moved every 2 to 3 years. I switched schools three times in elementary school, twice in middle school, and three times in high school. Granted, sometimes I did end up back at the same school, but it's still change. Even if I didn't have my trauma, that constant change has severely impacted me as an adult.

The military has a funny way of saying, "Hey, guess what? Time to move again." As a kid, when you are settling into a routine and need that consistency in order to thrive, that abrupt change causes a psychological mind fuck. You begin to rely on the only thing that is consistent, your family. That becomes tricky when you have a fucked up family too. Things were never great in my family, but we "maintained" as a unit until my freshman year of college. So, in reality, there was no real constant. So, with no constants and the ever looming threat of moving again, it always feels like you have no control over your life.

That lack of control has left this void that I tend to fill with temporary things: people, alcohol/drugs, eating disorder behaviors, etc. That void drives me crazy. It drives my depression and anxiety to a more severe level. It also was a strong basis for my eating disorder to begin. In some way, it felt like I had some power in controlling my own destiny with visible goals. I could see my control working in the smaller sizes of my clothes, the lower weight on the scale, the more bones I could see. That skinny controlled person became my identity. So what happens when you have to challenge that identity, because it's not healthy?

When I challenged the sole thing that defined my identity, I quickly found that I was left with nothing. Underneath everything, my eating disorder, which made me feel like a person, was covering up my complete lack of identity. I had no idea who I was, what I wanted, or where I belonged. It wasn't until working through my values with a therapist that I had some picture of who I could be. When looking at my military brat upbringing, it had a major impact on my identity. I value change, because you can learn from it. It taught me about resilience, the importance of true friends and family, and that I truly can face anything that life throws at me.

While being a military brat did have a major influence on the development of my Eating Disorder, it also gave me important life skills that are vital to continue on my journey to recovery. Skills that if I didn't have today, I would never have survived the majority of my life without. So, while I am still trying to figure out my true identity, I know that Military Brat will always be a strong part of it.

Being Rational

Well now that I am not totally losing my mind in a total freak out, I feel like I can write a rational blog.

Yesterday was a total shit show. It's often days like that when I feel like I absolutely cannot handle anything anymore. Just one thing after another kept adding on to the point where all I could do last night was lay in bed and cry. I have always never been really sure if I meant to live this life I have been given. I'm not sure why I was picked to have all these things happen to me, but I was. There's no rational or human explanation as to why.

One of my clients used to tell me that she knew she had experienced such a tremendous amount of trauma in her life, because God chose her to be a role model and example to others that you can make it through anything. The more I go through treatment, the more I think about her. She truly was an amazing example and leader for her family, church, and community. Even though she had experienced a huge amount of trauma, she tried so hard until her body wouldn't allow her to do so anymore. By the time I started seeing her, she was in her mid-60's but had been plagued with a tremendous about of physical ailments. She was on oxygen and walked with a cane. In the year that I worked with her, she became more and more ill, but still wanted to be that example for her family and others living in her assisted living home. The last 2 months she was my client, she was doing so poorly physically. We transitioned into phone sessions, because she couldn't make it into the office anymore. All of a sudden, I stopped hearing from her. I knew in my gut that she had probably passed away; however, it was still a difficult period of not knowing. Then, after mailing her a letter, our main offices received it back with the word "Deceased" hand written on it. It was a really difficult thing for me to accept, but I knew that she wasn't in pain anymore and gone out as that beautiful role model that she wanted to be.

Whenever I think about my client, I think of how calm and rational she was about everything. She could have been having nightmares and suicidal ideations all day, but she was still able to sit and explain in a calm and collected manner how she was doing and legitimate explanations as to why. She was very insightful. I have always envied this ability in other people. I feel like I am a very rational person. I think things deserve explanations and reasons, which is why I feel so frustrated in my eating disorder.

My Eating Disorder is clearly not a rational thing. The vast majority of my core beliefs that trigger my eating disorder are also irrational. One major belief has always been that I am unworthy of anyone's love, particularly romantic love. Another top contender is that I am undeserving of any good things that do happen to me. Finally, the worst one of all, I am responsible and deserving of blame for all of the horrible things that have happened to me in my lifetime. I can try and give evidence for all of these, but I am typically shot down by more rational answers.

The irrationality of my eating disorder has been a huge struggle point for me. I don't understand it. I hate it. I do not get why I can't just get over it. That battle between my rational and irrational minds are even more difficult than the one between my healthy and ED minds. The biggest battle of all will be accepting the rational and accepting that the irrational will always exist, but there are better things in the world to challenge it with.

... And Then, My Radiator Broke.

You know those days where all this annoying shit happens and just piles up and you just have a meltdown? This is my day today...

Work wasn't bad. I had a very hard time staying focused, because I knew that once 3:45 hit, I would have to leave to surrender myself back to the world of therapists, psychiatrists, dieticians, and talking about food and how it makes me feel all the time. It was nice to walk in and see some familiar faces. No shock like I thought (because I'm pretty sure they all knew I was coming). Just love and support. That made it a lot easier to walk back through those doors.

Issue number 1 of the day came up when speaking with my new psychiatrist. She asked me to describe what my current symptoms were. One of those for me is flashbacks to some serious trauma. So, I am describing in detail what I am experiencing in these flashbacks when I am cut off. She says she has a suicidal client who needs assistance immediately. No wrap up. No conclusions. I got an, "Are you going to be okay?" Which my answer to that is always, "Of course. Sure." Honestly, an actively suicidal client definitely takes precedence. I had no issue with that. It's just that I was left open discussing a fuck ton of shit that I had no future opportunity to gain closure on. As soon as I left her office, I went straight into meal planning group (joy) and discussing the meal outing.

Oh right, the meal outing was tonight. I had about a 15 minute heads up about it, which if you've ever had an eating disorder, you know that meal outings are one of the worst fucking parts of treatment. Granted, for me, this time was a lot different as I have been living in the "real world" outside of treatment for the last 4 months; however, it doesn't make it any less scary or overwhelming, especially when your dietician has no idea what behaviors you've been doing or what you've actually been eating. A guessing game is never something you want to do when it comes to your food. I count calories. I measure things to determine appropriate portions. Guess what portion is good for dinner? I haven't been eating dinner, so I'm not even hungry, let alone trying to determine what's best for me. So, it just made things more overwhelming and more difficult. I ate a little bit, but definitely not anywhere close to what an "appropriate" portion is. Oh well.

Then, on my drive home, I noticed what looked like smoke coming off my car. I didn't pay much attention to it, because I was stopped at a stop sign and thought I might be over a manhole or something like that. It wasn't until I got into my parking garage when I saw more white smoke. I got out and liquid was just pouring out of my engine. I called a coworker to help me, and he was able to find this huge slit in my radiator. Without any coolant in my car, it's undriveable. It was just the one thing I didn't need today.

It's been overwhelming enough having to accept that I need to return to treatment. Then, add in the conversation about my trauma being unresolved. Next, a completely unplanned meal. Finally, my car completely wrecking. I literally can't handle any of these things.

I don't know if this is a sign from God that now isn't the right time for treatment or that I need to struggle some more before I do my actual work. If it is, I am praying for absolution, because I need a fucking break.

Shame, Guilt, and Hating Everything (But Mostly Myself)

My anxiety is completely through the roof today. Here I am sitting at work, counting down the hours til I have to walk through those doors again to accept that I have failed and need help. I still know a few people there, but didn't tell them that I was coming back. So, I am nervous to see the looks on their faces when I walk back on the unit. Same with staff members. The first time I left, I had one staff member say to me, "Please do your best not to come back." Now, I have to. The amount of shame and guilt I have today is extraordinary.

I hate this disorder. I hate that I just can't get the fuck over it. I hate that I wake up every fucking day feeling like this. I hate never being good enough for myself or anyone else. I hate feeling like no one will ever be able to love me for who I am. I hate that I will never be thin enough. I will never be pretty enough. I will never be enough. I hate that I push people away, because I would rather have my disorder and be safe in my own little anorexia bubble. I hate the number of relationships damaged by going to treatment. I hate that I ruined multiple opportunities for my life in Milwaukee, because I couldn't keep my shit together. I hate the radical shifts in my ability to cope with every day life. I hate not being able to cope. I hate feeling like I have let everyone else down, but mostly I let myself down. I hate that all the bullshit in my life happened to me. I hate that somehow I was chosen to be the person to receive all this crap. I hate that I always feel alone in my disorder, which is my own fucking fault. I hate that, because of my trauma, I will never fully be able to trust anyone. I hate losing my hair. I hate the pain in my stomach when I haven't eaten for 2 days. I hate feeling so weak that I can barely get out of bed some days. I hate passing out. I hate not being able to remember anything, so it damages my job and my personal life. I hate that I took on all of this.

But the worst realization of all is realizing how much I hate myself, because that's a realization that I am starting to think you can never work yourself out of.