How did I get here? First I had to let go. I had to give up the control I was keeping to my treatment team and doctors. I had to have them tell me what to do, and I had to listen and do those things. I had to give the power to people who actually wanted me to live. I didn't want to live yet so I put that in the hands of my treatment team.
Then I had to EAT. And eat a lot. I had to get in at least 3000 calories a day, an enormous meal plan. I had to force myself to eat each bite but I did it. Every starch, every protein, every milk, every fruit, every vegetable, every fat. I was so deprived of nutrition that I just wasn't thinking right. Everything was jumbled in my brain. I was cranky and emotional and weepy. I couldn't function. I needed food. And that's what I did. I ate.
I had to give up purging. I went from purging several times a day to not purging at all and it was really hard. Food was coming up, I was gagging, I thought I just couldn't keep food down. But I stayed out of the bathroom and my room for two hours after meals. Sometimes all I could do was curl up in a ball on the couch and cry myself to sleep. But I chose to stop purging. Nobody did it for me. Nobody was there to police the bathroom. I chose to stop purging and after a few weeks it got easier. I didn't feel so sick and I could function after meals without sobbing and gagging. It took time but I did it.
Then there's exercise. When I started refeeding I was not allowed any exercise. I couldn't walk down the block to my treatment center I had to be driven. As I gained weight I earned walking privileges. Now I am allowed to walk an hour a day, but even now an hour is too much. I think too much about calories burned and "making up" for eating. Until I can think more healthily about exercise I am just walking to places I need to get to, not walking for exercise. I hope some day soon to be able to walk and enjoy myself because it feels good. And walking does feel good. It just isn't 100% healthy yet.
The recovery process sucks. For many weeks I was so constipated I almost ended up in the emergency room. I got diarreah. I got constipated again. My body just couldn't make up it's mind. My legs swelled up like balloons. My stomach puffed out like I was pregnant: my hair fell out and my nails broke. It was weeks of hell. But I'm on the other side now. And it feels amazing. So worth it.
If you are on the fence about recovery, I'm telling you to jump on the band wagon. Being thin doesn't make you happy. Throwing up can't make you happy. Being healthy will make you feel better. I'm not saying recovery is a nice process. In fact it sucks royally. But if you get past the suckiness you get to a place that is so much better than being sick. I'm proof. I've been sick with an eating disorder since I was 4. I'm not recovered. But I'm on my way. If I can do this so can you.
Never stop fighting.
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