This is Recovery

I wrote this a couple days ago after getting into an argument with someone. I wasn’t going to post it because I was embarrassed that these thoughts were even coming into my head but I think I need to share it. Recovery isn’t perfect and I’m sick of the misconception that once you gain weight you’re “better” and “cured”. I will go on to say that I did end up having dinner that night and after I sat down and wrote about it I felt a lot better knowing I got these thoughts out and could challenge them and recognize their irrationality. Recovery isn’t perfect and though these thoughts will haunt me for the rest of my life, I don’t have to act on them. This is recovery

It’s amazing how I can tell myself I’m in full recovery, I never think about food or weight anymore and I never have eating disordered thoughts. Then just one little thing happens, I get in an argument with someone and get pissed off and the first thought that pops into my head is well I’m not going to eat dinner tonight. It’s terrifying but also comforting at the same time.

This is the one thing I’ve always had. No one can hurt me because I’m already hurting myself. If you’re mad at me I’ll just focus on my body and numb myself out so I don’t have to feel. I’ll continue to whither away and you’ll feel sorry and wish you hadn’t said anything. It’s so scary that even years removed from treatment centers and using behaviors this thought is almost automatic at times. But the most fucked up thing is that this comforts me. Sometimes I get so worried that I don’t have the willpower to go back to my eating disorder and I’ve become a weak person by being like everyone else. I don’t have anything unique about me anymore and I need that one-foot out the back door, just in case I want to run back to it all. Knowing that I haven’t forgotten how to do it. 

I am being insane right now. I know logically I don’t want to go back to it all but there’s a voice inside my head whispering, “Kelly life is way too hard, you need to go back to the comfort of feeling your bones protruding and everyone walking around you on tip toes. You can finally have control again and don’t have to live in this chaotic world.”
I know all of these thoughts will pass in a few hours but right now I’m terrified and intrigued at the same time. I need someone to come slap some sense into me.

Today I can look back on this and say I'm proud of myself. That isn't something I do often but need to start. I have the amazing life I do today because of small little everyday victories that I often overlook. It's time I give myself credit for what I've overcome and begin look at these mishaps as opportunities to grow even stronger.

Two Worlds

"You never come back, not all the way. Always there is an odd distance between you and the people you love and the people you meet, a barrier thin as the glass of a mirror, you never come all the way out of the mirror; you stand, for the rest of your life, with one foot in this world and one in another, where everything is upside down and backward and sad." –Marya Hornbacher

I love this quote. It really is two different worlds. Those in my world now don’t understand the madness I endured all those years. Spinning out of control with nothing to grasp onto. Waking up every morning hoping to feel my bones, because it was the only control I had. Seeing friends in their teenage years drop to the floor in cardiac arrest. Popping pills till my world went dark. Waking up everyday hating God for keeping me alive. This was my life and the only thing I was used to.

Now I am in the “real world” experiencing everyday mundane things. No longer taking care of friends in crisis, and especially no more worrying about food or weight. The drama in my life now consists of what I will wear to a party this weekend, or stressing about an upcoming test in class. 

I like to think I am no longer in the other chaotic world I once was, but truth is all it takes is a phone call to pull me back in. Not back into the behaviors, but into worrying every second of the day and wondering why I can’t save these people. Remembering the madness and wanting to pull them out of it like others did to me.

I am stuck in this parallel universe of wanting to be in life but hurting at the thought of my friends who aren’t. Racking my brain trying to think of something I can say or do that will make a difference. Tiptoeing on a tightrope trying not to fall back into that life. Will it ever stop?

I know like most things I must find a balance but right now it feels like a never-ending process. I will forever be pulled between these two worlds, trying to keep standing on my own two feet.

Grateful

Right now I am crying. No not because the rangers just lost the World Series, the reason I’d normally be crying for but because I’m thinking back on where I used to be and how thankful I am.

 Three years ago today I was admitted to Laureate at my lowest weight, out of my mind on ephedra, and wanting more than anything for God to end my pain and let my body give out from this disease I no longer had the strength to fight.

When I first got there I was confined to a wheel chair at all times, my heart had such a bad arrhythmia they were worried that even standing up to walk to the bathroom would cause me to go into cardiac arrest and die.

I didn’t realize how close to death I really was. How could I be? Three days ago I was performing a cheer routine and two days ago I was walking 2 miles in a parade, I was fine.

It wasn’t until now, years later, that I look back and am so grateful to be alive, for the people who chose to fight for me when I had let them down so many times before, and the Drs who didn’t give up when I kept telling them that I was a lost cause.

It is realizing all of this, how lucky I really am that I’m deciding to change the way I’m living. I’m not longer getting caught up in petty drama that doesn’t matter, I’m no longer staying in relationships that aren’t true friendships, I’m no longer letting people use me because I’m convinced I have nothing else to offer. I’ve wasted too many years of my life that I can’t get back and I’m done doing things I regret later.

So from now on this is a new Kelly. Done with the bullshit, done with the drama, so if that’s all you bring you are officially out of my life.

I’m ready to truly start living, because I deserve it.

Supposed To

I thought no longer being in hospitals or treatment centers, no longer being consumed by racing thoughts of food and disgust with my body everyday, and no longer feeling too weak to even get out of bed was supposed to make things better. Supposed to make me happier. Supposed to make me enjoy life again.

I wish I could say it has, but recently I’ve felt more defeated than ever. No I am not back to engaging in eating disordered behaviors or wanting to die, but I am wanting to curl up in my bed and shut the world out for a while.

The past 3 weeks have been hell, literally anything that could go wrong in my life has. I feel frustrated, overwhelmed, and sad. I want to stay in my house and cry for days until all the tears I’ve stored up have run out.

Things aren’t supposed to be like this. Bad things aren’t supposed to be happening to my friends anymore. I’m not supposed to be sad all the time.

This phrase “supposed to” has become a big part of my life that I can’t let go of. I tell myself there are so many things I’m supposed to be making up for, so many people to help, and so many experiences to have that I end up criticizing myself for wanting to sit in my house and be sad instead of doing these things. I’m not supposed to be sad though right?

Throughout my five years in treatment my doctors always told me that they reason bad things kept happening to my friends was because I surrounded myself with unhealthy people who were always in crisis or on the brink of dying. I cut every one of those people out of my life and filled my life with healthy “normal” people as much as I could. But right now I feel like things aren’t changing, bad things keep happening and I want to run away from it all. I’m starting to think there’s no such thing as a healthy person and people wanting to kill themselves or making unhealthy decisions will forever surround me.

I’m starting to think this is a lie the doctors and therapists told me, just like when my parents used to tell me that if I would just get better all of our family problems would disappear.

I don’t know how much longer I can do this, keep living in this world pretending to be happy and like everything’s alright. Pretending this world is so much better than living inside the confined walls of a treatment center. Because right now the two don’t feel much different, and I’m running out of hope.

How To Save a Life

If you’re a reader of my blog you know that my weakness is trying to save people. I’ve spent my life in treatment centers meeting people in crisis and having them come to me when they want nothing more than to end their life and cease living in pain.

I used to tell myself God made me go through this for a reason. That I was the girl who would need to sacrifice herself in order to save others because their life was worth living but not my own. I would stay up for days, calling my long list of sick friends to make sure they were okay and if they weren’t it was my job to convince them that their life was worth living. A lot of them didn’t make it.

After learning of their death I’d always blame myself. I didn’t do enough, I didn’t say the right things, and they’re dead because of me. I’d always get on my knees begging God to take me instead of them, because I deserved it and they didn’t.

Here’s where I got it wrong. God did make me go through this for a reason but it wasn’t to sacrifice myself in order to save someone else. A friend once told me “you can’t save someone else if you’re drowning.”

I didn’t realize what this really meant until I got in recovery. I truly saw that I couldn’t play God and it wasn’t my job to save anyone, especially when I was barely keeping my own head above water.

I stopped taking calls from friends wanting to kill themselves and started living my own life. It still pained me to see people I cared about in pain but I realized the greatest thing I could do for them was live my own life and be an example that people can change and living a happy healthy life was possible after years of struggles.

The other night I was put in a familiar situation. A friend came to me and told me she wanted to die, she had been making plans of how to do it and everything would be better if she was gone. I didn’t know what to do and my mind began racing with fears of losing another friend and it being my fault because I couldn’t do enough. Then a light bulb went off, I couldn’t do anything, I couldn’t save anyone and there were never the right words to say to make someone want to live. I have been in that position before and had people tell me it gets better but when that switch flips in your head you don’t believe anyone and just want to escape the pain that is radiating through your body.

At this point I did something I’ve never done before. I admitted I couldn’t help her, that nothing I could say would make it better, and I took her to the hospital. I took her to the only place that could keep her safe, with people who can truly help her.

This was the hardest thing I’ve ever done but for the first time in my life I felt like I really did help. I admitted I was powerless and got her help. I’ve always told myself when my friends die that it’s been my fault but I now realize it’s not. I am powerless and I am human, but by admitting that this time I might have actually saved a life.

Eating Disorders Kill

This is a fact. The National Eating Disorders Association reports that 10-15% of those with an eating disorder will die within 10 years of contracting the disease, whether by complications relating to their eating disorder, heart failure, or suicide.

This is something I remember being told back when I was 16 at Remuda Ranch. I remember bawling when I heard that and looking around that room and not imagining the world without any of these girls in it. That day was six and a half years ago and today I have lost count at the amount of friends that I have lost due to this disease.

I found out tonight that another friend has lost her life to this fight.
I’m still in shock as I write that sentence.

While it has been almost 3 years since the last time I entered a treatment center and am now living in a world outside of hospitals and residential programs, nights like tonight bring me right back to all those hopeless years when I felt so alone.

This is an entry I wrote in one of my journals on April 19, 2007

"I don’t know who I am or who my friends are. Anorexia is my only friend. Am I ever going to get better? What is it going to take? Someone tell me the secret. Fix me. Last night all I wanted to do was slit my wrists and die. I have no self worth. I am 102 lbs, that is GROSS. I just want this all to be over. I want to be normal again if there is such a thing. I feel like the whole world is against me. I surrender. Help me God, save my life."

As I read that I no longer know the girl who wrote it. That girl could not have been me, even though I know it was. 

Hearing another friend has passed away often makes me angry. Angry that they could be this selfish, angry that they gave up hope, angry that they didn’t keep fighting. These are the times I have to stop and remind myself I was that girl who didn’t have any hope and that wanted so badly just to die.
For some reason God decided it was not my time to leave this earth.

These are the times when I get so frustrated. I wish I could help everyone that still feels so hopeless, to find a way to tell people that it gets better, and that this feeling won’t last forever. That true recovery and a life not obsessing about your weight or food is possible.

I’m not one of those bullshit recovery speakers we hear so often at family week that tells you life is just peachy and perfect because it’s not. I have days where all I want to do is cry and run back to the safety and security of my eating disorder, but I push through it and remind myself that God has bigger plans for me in this world than living my life in hospitals hooked up to feeding tubes.

I’m not sure who all reads this blog or if anyone even reads it at all. But if you are reading this entry and are in that hopeless dark place please don’t give up. I know it feels like things will never get better but I promise it can. I was that girl who never believed it but now I’m living proof that things can change.

Don’t give up.
Don’t ever stop fighting.
You are worth more than this.
Recovery is possible.

Recovered

I don’t need anyone. I am past that stage of needing someone to pick me up when I’m struggling with something. I spent five years in a revolving door of treatment centers, hospitals, outpatient doctors, and day programs. I’m better, I’m recovered, I’m cured, or at least that’s what I like to tell myself. I convince myself I’m past everything that nothing is allowed to upset me because that means I’m not better.

As someone who had an eating disorder, I’ve always thought of the world in black and white, and now is not much different. If I struggle with something, that means I am living a lie, and I never recovered, therefore recovery isn’t possible. Now I know that statement is COMPLETELY irrational but that is what goes through my mind on a daily basis and continues enabling the plastered smile on my face and the willingness to cater to everyone else’s needs. Now as I learned this Spring this cycle of thinking ends me back in a world of depression and restricting my food intake. I DO NOT want that to happen again, and lately I’ve been feeling scared. Scared that I’m never going to get past this belief in my core.

Its crazy how much easier it is to be vulnerable inside the safe walls of a treatment center, where you are expected and even encouraged to cry. In the real world you are told to put a smile on your face, to not think about the things that make you sad, and to remember that other people have it worse than you. Is this really a healthy way to be living? Or are we just breeding a generation of overachievers who are really crumbling on the inside but too scared to tell anyone?

I’ve learned these past two years I’ve been out of treatment that the most difficult thing isn’t following a meal plan, or accepting my body, but learning to use my voice. For so long I starved, cut, and purged to let people know I wasn’t okay, I didn’t know how to say the words out loud, I didn’t feel like I deserved to. Now I’m back in the real world and forget that it’s okay to tell people that I can’t handle something, or that I’m upset. I end up crying alone in my room away from everyone so that people keep believing the façade I present to the world. Why is it so scary to say out loud that I’m upset about something? This is a question I’m going to need to spend some time answering. As an old friend reminded me the other day, people relate to others who are real, not people we perceive as perfect and without problems.

So this is my goal for the upcoming semester. To stop saying “I’m fine” all the time, to ask for help, and to remind myself that no one can do it all.

I’m going to end this post with the lyrics of a Kate Voegele song that really resonates with me right now

Most days I try my best
To put on a brave face
But inside my bones are cold
And my heart breaks
But all the while something’s keeping me safe
And alive

But so many people are looking to me
To be strong and to fight
But I’m just surviving
And maybe weak but I’m never defeated
And I’ll keep believing in clouds with that sweet silver lining

And I won’t give up like this
I will be given strength
Now that I’ve found it
Nothing can take that away 

The Big S

Suicide. It’s a terrifying word but it’s something we’ve all come into contact with in one-way or another in our lives. I remember being young and hearing that word and thinking how could someone do that to themselves? It was difficult to fathom. Now this is something I’ve become accustom to dealing with in my short life.

Today marks the one year anniversary of losing yet another friend to his own hand, and it comes on the heels of losing someone else just a few short weeks ago. I see my friends go through this gut wrenching loss feeling immense sadness and anger, and feeling helpless. I feel helpless because I wish I could make sense of it all for them. Because I am not your average bystander who looks on in disbelief, I have tried numerous times to take my own life, and know what it feels like in that moment to not care who loves you, or who would be sad if you were gone, but just want ultimate relief from the unbearable pain of living,

This week I started reading a book called “A History of Suicide.” The book is about a girl who’s 21 year old sister takes her own life, and she tries to make sense of it all in her own life, and attempts to understand what her sister was feeling when she did it. There was one quote that stuck out to me, because it summarizes what everyone feels when this happens in their life.

"We do not want to comprehend that people may and do die of emotional pain, or to recognize the terror in ourselves when we cannot seem to help someone in despair—when our words are empty.”

 

It’s so true, whenever we experience a death we all say to ourselves we’re going to start living and loving to the fullest and no longer taking anything for granted. We’re going to talk to the people who we’ve been neglecting and remind them that we love them. But things always return to normal and soon it feels like nothing ever happened because we all find ways to adjust and move on with our lives. The truth is there’s not much we can do or say that will have an impact on someone in that state. I’ve been there before, not caring who said what to me because I didn’t believe them. The only thing I’ve realized that I can tell someone from experience is it does get better. And I know that sounds so cliché but I’ve seen it happen in my life.

I was looking through old pictures the other day and came across this one. Looking at it brought tears to my eyes because it takes me right back to that place. I look at this girl and see her malnourished, forcing a smile, with no real life behind her eyes. 

 

It’s hard to realize that girl is me just a few short years ago. I can see the look of despair and hopelessness in her eyes and all I want to tell her is don’t give up, it does get better. Now for some reason God did not let me take my life that year, and he worked through the doctors in the ICU to save me. Now in pictures I can see a real smile, and eyes that light up because there is true happiness beneath it. 

Now I know everything happens for a reason and the people that do end up succeeding in taking their lives were taken early for some reason that God doesn’t want us to know. But that doesn’t make it any easier. I think right now instead of mourning the only thing we can do is to keep living our lives and fulfill what they can’t. I am now living for that hopeless girl who spent 5 years in hospitals thinking that nothing could ever become of her life. And that’s all any of us can do.

 

Six Years

I’m trying really hard to write this without crying but tears are flooding to my eyes just thinking about it. 6 years ago…wow. I remember life wasn’t much different, nothing out of the ordinary, until my sister came home crying from school one day in April. She said she wouldn’t speak to me unless I ate something. I had been able to hide my eating disorder pretty well the past year and my parent’s didn’t say much except for yelling at me to eat and calling me stupid. It was my sister’s tears that prompted my mom to bring me to the doctor, it was there that I had a bone scan and was diagnosed with osteoporosis, next they found ketones in my urine and told me that my body was eating it’s own muscles, and the final step was the cardiologist. I remember sitting in Dr. Wright’s waiting room, looking around at the newborns waiting to be seen and thinking I didn’t belong here. I never told anyone about the chest pains, I had always just prayed they would go away. First they did an echocardiogram on my heart, little did I know this would become such a custom that I could tell them where to place the electrodes. Next they took an EKG and I waited, shivering in a paper hospital gown, trying to cover up my ribs peering out the side, for the Dr. to come in. Next thing I knew she came in screaming at me and I couldn’t stop the tears. She kept talking about leaking valves, low heart rate, fluid around the heart, and death. My mom never cried, but looked at me in anger as the paper gown began to become soaked with my own tears. My mom asked what to do and when should they put me in the hospital, the doctor looked at her and said yesterday. The next morning I was on a plane to Phoenix Arizona, over a thousand miles from my home. I was dropped off and told I couldn’t talk to my mom for three days, and after that I could speak to her twice a week for 15 minutes. I remember screaming and pleading with her not to leave me here, how could she leave her first born daughter at a place like this? I promised her I’d eat again but she did not believe me and she got in the car and drove away. Later that day they said my weight was too low and they put a feeding tube down my nose to give me extra nutrition. Everything was a blur, I didn’t have an eating disorder and I didn’t belong here. Little did I know I’d end up meeting some of the best friends I’d ever made in my life and cry 8 weeks later because I didn’t want to leave. Those two months were terrifying and although it didn’t “fix” me it opened up my eyes to what I was doing to myself, made me see that I wasn’t the only one feeling this way and going through these things, and gave me people to lean on. We became a family and there are still many girls that I talk to today 6 years later, and when we start seeing the statistics, “one in eight will die from this disease” come true before our very eyes, we band together and give each other the courage to keep going. And although I still fought my disease for another five years, enduring countless hospitalizations, treatment centers, feeding tubes, overdoses, doctors, and therapy sessions…I know I couldn’t have done it without my Remuda girls keeping me going. I thank God everyday for bringing them into my life and I hope someday I can have an impact on someone’s life and recovery the way these people did on mine.

Progress Is Not Perfection

Tonight I got to hear Renee Yohe, who is the girl whom inspired the movement To Write Love On Her Arms, speak and tell her story. It really resonated with me and as soon as she began speaking I started to cry because everything she said is something that I have felt at one point or another in my life. That we are all doing anything we can to run away from the feelings inside of us rather than face them. Yesterday was the three year anniversary of me entering Castlewood after my final suicide attempt. I started crying in my car today as I was thinking about it, lying in the bed of ICU wondering if my family or friends were going to come see me, if they even cared if I had survived or not. Then getting on a plane the next day to St. Louis, yet another treatment center that I had prematurely deemed hopeless. The three years since then have been full of ups and downs, laughter and heartaches, but I have never experienced this much growth throughout my entire life. I can officially say I have been in recovery for 2 years now from my eating disorder and from self-injury. What I learned from hearing Renee speak tonight is that other people in recovery struggle with this idea that we need to become perfect and have all of our problems be in our past. I felt so relieved when she said she was speaking and giving her story once and felt an emptiness inside because she couldn’t tell anyone she was struggling. I am fortunate that I found the courage to tell someone and I didn’t have to fall too far in my own lapse. I get so caught up in being this role model to others for recovery and think my eating disorder is something in my past that it isn’t bubbling beneath the surface, waiting for me to succumb to it’s deception. I get so caught up in trying to help others, and giving them the tools to beat their own disease, while neglecting my own. For some reason many years ago I decided I was the one who could save everyone else, it didn’t matter if I needed to sacrifice myself along the way. It is something that is still engrained in my mind to this day and I have to remind myself that people look up to someone who is real and has struggles, who talks about what is hard but asks for guidance to work through it. It’s funny how we set such different standards for ourselves than what we expect out of others. How we verbally beat ourselves up day in and day out and don’t think twice about it. This is something I’ve got to work on, allowing myself to feel my emotions without judgments, so I don’t keep wandering this life running away from any feelings that scare me.

So these are my goals from here on out…be kinder to myself, don’t be afraid to tell people what I’m really feeling, and enjoy every day and be willing to take in each lesson God teaches me, and finally remember that I am not invincible.

3AM thoughts

Right now it’s 3am and I can’t sleep because my mind is racing. Not with anything bad just taking time to reflect on this semester so far. I still can’t believe a month ago I had gone back to starving myself for days at a time and now I’m sitting here in bed, after having an amazing night, thinking how blessed I am and how much I love everything in my life right now. I love that life is constantly changing and I’m meeting new people and discovering new things. I used to think recovery just meant stop using eating disordered behaviors but now I realize it’s about really engaging in life and learning things as I go along, which are sometimes good and sometimes bad. Sometimes people (myself included) get so caught up in needing everything right now. Saying I need to know my major and what job I’m going to have, I need a boyfriend to help me feel secure, I need a best friend and a daily routine that I’m comfortable with. But that’s not what life is at all. Why do we hate feeling uncomfortable and taking one step outside of our comfort zone? This past year I’ve found that taking big risks offers big rewards. Meeting new people and doing something completely new is one of my favorite things, as scary as it may seem.

In another direction but equally important, I’ve noticed something else this semester. Why oh why is everyone so insecure with themselves? I don’t know if it’s just because I spent five years of my life around chronic eating disorder patients that I had a skewed view of the outside world but this is something I’ve definitely taken note of. I hate how people have to constantly be so mean to each other or put another person or group down to make themselves feel better. We all get so caught up in thinking we’re the best that we forget other people have feelings too. A very wise person once told me don’t compare your insides to someone else’s outsides and that is something I put into practice to this day. Girls think it’s fine to call someone else a bitch or slut that they don’t even know, or whisper about something they “heard” about them, or stereotype or judge that person because they’re in a certain greek house. I wish people could get to know each other and look past the label of someone else. I’ll admit, I’ve prematurely judged others as well as been called a snob and not given the time of day, we’re all guilty of it but I wish we could come together to try and stop it. I know I’m being a little too idealistic this is just something that’s been on my mind a lot lately. I’ve seen too many people miss out on amazing experiences because they’d rather hold on to a silly perception. And while I know I can’t change anyone else I’m going to continually make an effort from hear on out to not perpetuate gossip, to not put someone down that I don’t even know, and to try and get to know as many people as I can. Because relationships are what make life amazing and I’d hate to miss out on something great because of my own insecurities and stubbornness.

Ok well it’s after 3 and I’m planning on getting up semi early to drive home to Texas to spend the day with my dad, because he’s my best friend and I miss him as corny as that sounds. Sorry if this blog post is random or doesn’t make sense, tonight is just one of those nights where I felt the need to write down the thoughts bouncing inside my head. 

Beauty in Balance

So I know my last blog was kind of depressing, it was also really hard for me to write that and admit that I was struggling again with something that I had told myself I’d never go back to. These past few weeks have definitely been challenging but I’ve continued to do things I told myself I could not do. I spoke up and asked for help, I started to set boundaries with people again, I forced myself to eat 3 meals a day, and I let myself cry and not always be the strong one for others. These are things I had learned to do in treatment but had fallen by the wayside these past few months as I put aside my coping skills and let my perfectionism take over. These days I’m finally starting to feel like myself again, not thinking about calories or my body, and truly laughing and enjoying life.

I’ve realized what set me back these past few months. I began to fall back into the mindset that I had to be there for everyone else and that’s the only way I would gain approval and friendship. I ignored emotions and began starving to numb out because it hurt too much to feel. Then the shame set in because I was supposed to be the example, the girl in recovery who never struggled with that again, the girl everyone looked up to and had a seemingly perfect life with her days of eating disorder and depression behind her. But now I’m realizing none of that is real. It’s not realistic to never struggle with something that was my main coping mechanism for so long. The difference is I don’t have to let it rule my life. I can see the warning signs and ask for help. I have too many things going for me to give up now, let my eating disorder rule my life and run back to treatment to escape when things get hard. And although it hurts to fight back I can already see that it is worth it.

I also want to thank all of my friends for encouraging me that it’s okay to struggle, and telling me that other’s look up to someone who is real and has struggles rather than someone with a smile plastered on her face. Now I can see that this journey will never be perfect, there will always be highs and lows, but no mater what happens I can get through it with help and support from others. I’m learning to find the beauty in balance and reminding myself how amazing it is to feel true joy.

“He who trims himself to suit everyone will soon whittle himself away” – Raymond Hull

The Truth

I am not okay. That’s very hard for me to write. As some of you know I have a hard time ever asking for help, or admitting that something’s wrong which is not a good trait and ends with me in the place I am in right now. I am restricting again, okay that’s kind of a lie, I am skipping entire meals and going days without eating again. It’s only been the past couple of weeks but it’s terrifying me. I’m so used to being the girl that everyone comes to for help or advice, the girl that people look up to, so it’s hard to admit that I’m the one that may need others. The past couple of months I’ve gotten so caught up in taking care of everyone else’s problems and ignoring my own emotions that it’s begun to come out in my food. I am horribly ashamed to say this, I’ve always thought I’m over this; I’ve worked through it and should never struggle with it again. A good friend reminded me that this is something I had to fight for in hospitals for six years and it’s not something that will ever go away, and I know she’s right but I guess I just have different standards for myself. I tell myself I should never struggle, I should always have a smile on my face and be positive, and not break down or cry. I feel like I was such a sponge off of my loved ones back when I was at my sickest and I don’t ever want to go back to feeling needy, but I guess I’m going to have to learn to find a middle ground. I don’t want to continue withering away with a fake smile on my face attempting to convince others I’m fine until I become medically compromised again, and I don’t think my body can handle me putting it through this one more time. I don’t want to continue going down this path but I’m scared to ask for help, I’m scared to admit I need others help, and I’m scared of not feeling numb anymore. So this is why I’m writing this, when I started this blog I promised I’d be honest with y’all about my journey of recovery and I’ve come to accept this is part of my journey, but it doesn’t mean a relapse and negate anything I’ve done in the past few years. I am determined to keep my head up and keep going because I refuse to be defeated by this horrible disease.

“Our greatest glory is not in never failing, but in rising up every time we fall.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Breathe In, Breathe Out

I need to start doing better about this blogging thing. The reason I haven’t written is because I tell myself if I don’t have anything happy and uplifting to write I shouldn’t write anything because then people will be disappointed in me. So rather than allowing myself to write about what’s really been going on I’ve been bottling it all up, stuffing it way down in my gut, and forcing a fake smile on my face. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you all how well that plan has worked for me.

I guess it all started a few weeks ago. I of course got sick again and had to go back to my second home, urgent care. Now before I go on I should tell you that I haven’t known my weight in over two and a half years. I’m fine with my body but the number completely effs with my head. Well I get on the scale backwards at urgent care and the nurse says it out loud after I explicitly tell her not to. Now for a normal person who hasn’t spent 6 years of her life in a hospital because she almost starved herself to death this would be fine, but for me this was huge. After the Dr. wrote me my prescription I got in my car and had the most epic breakdown I’ve probably had in years. I’m talking ugly cry, calling my dad and telling him I’m going to lose 30 pounds, and locking myself in my room. After about half an hour of this I came to my senses. Kelly, you have spent 6 years of your life in treatment centers, have almost died countless times and are finally living a happy and fulfilling life? Yet somehow knowing that number makes me want to go back to it all. And it’s not that I even hate my body anymore at all, yet something so small makes me want to go back to having a feeding tube up my nose. Craziness. So you know what I did? I let myself finish crying, and went to dinner with one of my friends. Because when you look at the big picture, yes I can be upset and it can trigger me but I’m not going to let myself go back to it all after I’ve worked this hard, I am worth more than a number. At first I didn’t want to tell anyone about this incident, then I realized I needed to share this, because being in recovery doesn’t mean never freaking out about things, it only means learning to handle them in a non destructive way.

Other than that I’ve been getting stressed out with school and extra curricular stuff, and also finding out that old friends are struggling again which upsets me more than anything. But every time something gets to me I just tell myself I can handle it all, and I shouldn’t be upset or cry. I am in recovery now, which means life should be great, nothing should stress me out, and I should be a support for everyone. That’s completely rational right? It seems so silly writing this now but it’s a belief that is rooted so deeply within me that I need to remind myself isn’t true. Life isn’t perfect, I’m going to have bad days, people are going to hurt me, but I can experience it, learn from it, and move on.

I’m so thankful I have wonderful friends who can remind me at times like these and encourage me. When I look back at these past few weeks, I have had a lot of wonderful things happen to me as well. I’ve reconnected with a few old friends who have gone on to live happy lives free from their disease, I’ve been asked to speak to a college class and share my story, I got to walk in the National Eating Disorder Awareness Week walk with friends in recovery, I’ve gotten to know new sorority sisters and bond with old ones. Overall, life is amazing and I'm so blessed to be celebrating my two years of no symptoms next month, and be getting to live my life and experience new things every day.
I guess the moral of the story is I don’t have to keep up a perfect appearance all the time to be an inspiration to people or to be a leader. People don’t look up to people who are fake or pretend to have it all together, they want to be friends with people who are real. So that is what I’m going to continue to try and be.

A good friend from one of my treatment centers gave me this quote one time when I was struggling with this concept years ago. And it could not be put any more perfectly

“It doesn't happen all at once,' said the Skin Horse. 'You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand." – the velveteen rabbit

Happy Birthday to Me

So it’s officially my birthday! I'm 23 wow. (I won’t be admitting that much haha)

The last few days I’ve been kind of pessimistic about turning 23, always comparing myself to where I think I should be in my life. I haven’t had the cookie cutter road that a lot of my friends have. I didn’t get to walk across the stage when I graduated high school, I didn’t get to go off to college that fall, and I didn’t get to go to a bar and have all my friend’s buy me shots when I turned 21.I’m not saying this to get pity, I think I just always tell myself and others that I took a different path in life and I’m fine with that but in reality it’s easier to say that confidently than to deal with the fact that I am kind of sad and embarrassed that I’m “behind.” I hate that I let it get to me, but I more so hate the fact that I spent so many years wanting to die that I would give anything to get back and live.

It’s time to stop wishing I could get the past back and focus on right now. I know I haven’t blogged in a month so some of you don’t know what’s been happening with me but I’ve had a lot of exciting opportunities. I was elected Vice President of my sorority and improved my GPA tremendously last semester. I’ve been able to make new friends, reconnect with some old ones and really step into who I am as a person without my eating disorder. This is the first time in my life that I can truly say there is no going back.

It’s time for me to let go and let God show me what he has planned for me in this next year of my life. Because if I don’t stop trying to relive the past I’m going to miss what’s great about right now.

walk down memory lane

So being back at Castlewood has been such an amazing experience. It's been wonderful to see all the people who believed in me and made such an impact on my recovery. But it's been so difficult to see all the girls here who are still struggling with their eating disorders. It made me reminisce to my time here, and although it's sometimes hard to remember how bad those times really were, I was able to find some old therapy assignments on my computer which really took me back to what I was feeling in those months and years.

This is something I wrote April of 2008, the first time I came to Castlewood. I had just gotten here after I had spent a week in ICU after trying to take my own life.

Why am I a lost cause? Mostly because this is the message I get from people in my life. There are those few that say they have hope but they don’t really know the depth of the issue. I don’t have the resources to stay in recovery, I don’t have a plan set up for what to do with my life or a dream of who I want to be, I don’t have a stable system of supportive friends to help me through rough times, and I don’t have a family who is willing to or even understands how to pick me up when I fall. I am so easily swayed by other people and what they think is best for me that I don’t think for my own so I am constantly misguided by others judgments. I don’t have hope for myself, I can’t see myself recovered and living a life other than this and maybe I don’t want to. I am constantly seeing images of other girls trying and failing and this doesn’t make me optimistic for my future. Hearing those statistics, 1 in 8 just makes me so much less hopeful, and especially watching them come true before my very eyes, without really noticing any differences between these girls actions and my own. I feel like so many people have tried to help me and I’ve searched for help and guidance in so many ways but have never gotten what I needed or something that has seemed to work. It works for other girls but for some reason not me. and it’s not that I don’t try, because I truly truly do. Do you think I want to be a lost cause? No. but for right now I can sit here and point to the girls who are going to recover and one of those is not me. too many things hinder my recovery and happiness, and maybe I let some of those things take place and am putting barriers in my way but right now it’s the only way I know how to get compassion or to feel needed by someone or some sense of safety. I feel that I will be dead in a year, not by my body giving out on me, but of my own doing. I know how deeply things effect me and how much I lock those inside and let them expand until I explode. Something that can seem so trivial can make me severely depressed and when I get in this mindset I don’t have the will to live. I need a release from all of this pain, and a real release not just temporary soothing. I’m so compulsive and when a thought pops into my mind I find myself doing outrageous things. Its like I become a different person and someone else takes over me, forcing me to do these self destructing acts. I know I am not invincible. I know that someone won’t be there to save me every single time. Something is going to happen and it is going to set me over the edge, and this time someone won’t be able to stop me, my emotions will get the best of me and I will succumb to my sickness. Experiencing the untimely death I deserve. But hey, maybe people will care or understand or even pay attention when I am gone. I won’t be invisible anymore.

Yes I wrote these words and felt them deeply. I literally had no hope and was praying every day that God would put me out of my misery. It's hard to pinpoint what exactly happened between then and now, but there was something in me that gave me the will to fight. So that's why I'm here in St. Louis, telling these girls that are terrified to eat a meal and have lived their lives in and out of treatment centers and hospitals that I was once in their shoes, and it's possible to have a different life. Recovery is possible for every single person. I remember doctors telling me that I wouldn't live past the age of 21. I am here today a month away from being 23 years old, and for the first time in my life I am happy, healthy, and living a life free of an eating disorder.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous hand." Isaiah 41:10