Healing and Hunger: Finding myself

The days were overwhelming there. It was intense. I was getting pulled every which way to talk to psychiatrists, nurse practitioners, dietitians, therapists and nurses. And when I wasn’t talking to them, I made sure I would participate in all the group therapies sessions that were offered. But I made time everyday to curl up in the library corner and read my books and journal.

Now, journaling is completely new to me. I’ve never had any interest in jotting my feelings down in a notebook. Honestly, I thought it was stupid and pointless. But I knew I was going to have a lot of free time on my hands so I picked up a notebook before getting admitted.

Wow, people weren’t kidding. That shit is therapeutic.

I fell in love with journaling. All my thoughts and feelings that were jumbled up in my head somehow came out clearly onto my notebook. My pen didn't stop moving and neither did my thoughts. I didn’t use any prompts. I just wrote. And by the end of every journaling session, my heart was on that paper. I think a big part of my healing has come from journaling. Highly recommend it if you haven’t given it a try.

Everyday I was there, I made sure to give everything my all. Whether it was a meeting with a provider, making essential oils, painting a rock, or eating my meal, I gave all of myself to the process. I think something important that I learned is that you need to allow yourself to feel all the emotions you are feeling. If you’re sad, then be sad. If you’re happy, then be happy. Let yourself feel it all. Let yourself slowly heal, do not rush the process. And don’t feel guilty about feeling a certain way.

Don’t get me wrong, not everything was an amazing, eye-opening process. I'm not gonna sit here and say I enjoyed all of it and I'm a new woman. Heck! I was going bonkers in there. I wanted to be outside those walls with my friends and family. I wanted to be able to shower without a staff member being in the room. I wanted to be able to do what I wanted when I wanted. I wanted to flush my toilet, and not have a nurse do it. I just felt like I was being watched every second of everyday. I felt so dependent on the staff. Nothing was in my control, and for the first time in ten years, I couldn't turn towards food restriction as my solution.

My days looked pretty much the same everyday. The staff created a nice routine for me that gave my day structure. I would be woken up everyday at five for them to get my weight and draw labs. Then breakfast was at 8:30AM. The rest of the morning would consist of some kind of group therapy and individual sessions with your healthcare team. Then lunch. More group therapy. Then snack. More group therapy. Then dinner. Wrap-up group. Then snack again. Catch the vibe? The clock would turn ten and I was truly exhausted. Back to bed again. Only to do everything again tomorrow.

I will say that each day that I woke up, I felt better than the day before. My anxiety slowly started to come down, I spent more time meeting the other patients and even my loved ones said that I sounded better on the phone. I felt better.

My eating disorder had been a part of me for about ten years so obviously there are thought patterns that are hard to break. I mean I have been living like this for ten years, I can’t just *poof* change how I view food and my body overnight. It’s a constant work in progress. Growth is a process. I learned many ways to reroute negative thoughts, treat myself with compassion, and utilize positive coping mechanisms.

Day five rolls around and I’m kind of over it. Not the process of recovery itself, but the environment I was in. I needed a little more independence. I couldn’t be in such a controlled environment like this. I needed to be back in the world where my eating disorder thrives on uncontrollable variables. My labs and vitals were stable. So I brought my concerns up to my care team, and they agreed. They felt like I was ready for the next step.

SONG FOR POST: Fighter by Christina Aguilera