Recovery….
One thing I admit is that this eating disorder requires so much of my will power and strength. It took everything I had left to admit to myself I needed to recover. I knew I had it in me. I just needed a little push to find it.
With the support from my family I found help, I had therapy and structure. I was also hospitalised at Cotswold Spa Hospital for eating disorders. I lived there for about 12-13 weeks; even spent my 17th birthday there. During my time at Cotswold Spa I went through intense cognitive, behavioural and group therapy. This is where I was diagnosed with depression and put on pills. Depression? Me? But I was once so happy, bright and healthy - what the hell had happened? I was confused, lost and not myself. My bright blonde hair became dark and looked like straw. My eyes were a dark and deep. My cheek, collar and rib bones stuck out. But I was oblivious. Through my eyes, I was obese.
I had no feelings. I was emotionless and blank.
The setup of this hospital was to help me make small but manageable changes to the abnormal behaviours I had developed. I had to eat eight times a day whether I was hungry or not. The staff, who became more of a family to me, explained that due to me refusing food for so long my body had forgotten what hunger was. But “slowly it will come back”, they would tell me. To me, they were lying. They wanted to make me gain weight and get fat. No matter what they said or did, I told myself I would just lose it all again. And that’s exactly what I did. I wasted 12 weeks of my life pretending I was fine. Pretending the weight just didn’t want to go on. When secretly at weekends I would just skip meals. In my opinion, asking me to change my behaviour was like asking me to change my personality. Whenever I ate I would either purge, or just exercise insanely in my room. I wasn’t me. Everything I did the eating disorder controlled. It made me believe I was becoming lazy and allowing people to make me fat.
I was discharged in the belief by doctors I was getting better on 1st of January 2014.
It’s insane right? Why discharge me when my weight hadn’t left its lowest point? It’s all in the smile. A smile can make people believe you are doing just fine if you do it right. The pain I felt was hidden; the pain I was causing to myself was hidden. I pretended I was doing just fine. Of course I wasn’t, I just lost all the weight again, maybe even more. But because my heart wasn’t affected as much as before my therapist believed I wasn’t ill enough to go back into hospital. Well he may not have meant that, but it’s what I thought. “So I am not ill?”
Old habits crept back into my life. I skipped meals. I exercised. I hid food. I lied. I became the eating disorder once more. It’s a shame no one saw the signs. Even if they did, they didn’t stop me. I was just good at hiding how I really felt. I guess I still am. “Day patient” was mentioned several times but I turned it down thinking it would just make me fat. That’s all these people wanted, to make me fat. They didn’t want Deanna back. They wanted less hassle and just wanted me to eat. They all hate me anyway. That’s what I thought anyway - when in reality they were only trying to help.
February 28th - it all changed. I met a friend. A recovering friend; she was beautiful. It was like fate. It was like we were meant to meet. She had curly blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a pretty smile. I assure you I am not gay (not that I have anything against gay people), and I wondered why someone so beautiful and happy suffered so much. Her strength inspired me. She showed me the road to recovery, no more games could be played now. Even though she struggled herself she helped me, she knew what to say and what to do. As if she wasn’t suffering herself. She never showed her pain. She was strong and brave. I admire her for that.
That night sadly I binged for the first time, the shock of food again got to my brain. I lost control. I ate every last food gift my friend had given me on top of all the sugary food in my house. I purged. I stuck both fingers down my throat and watched as sticky yellow liquid slipped out of my mouth. It was vile. I had to punish myself. I cut. Cut deeply into my wrist whilst I cried. I was lucky that I didn’t cut deep enough to scar. I grabbed my tablets and threw them away, they can’t save me anymore. I am better depressed and skinny than happy and fat.
I started to spend more and more time with my friend, she helped me move away from binging and continue to slip my way into recovery. But sadly as doors were closed I would continue to binge. I put the weight on pound by pound. I binged my way to weight restored. I purged over three times a day. But despite this I continued to act like everything was okay. Through the day I would socialise, pretend to be happy, sing and dance. I pretended that Deanna was slowly coming back to life. One thing I couldn’t do was trigger my friend. She had come too far. At night I would cry myself to sleep, I would scratch myself until I bled, and I wouldn’t sleep. I was running on binges.
At first, recovery felt like I was running through an untamed wood. I had to keep going over and over the same path to at least change my thinking. It took days; weeks even to slowly admit to myself I needed help. Slowly I am starting to reconnect with myself and push my eating disorder to the side. I am living a lot more. Though I am still suffering mentally, I have physically recovered to a healthy weight.
There are days where my determination and willpower are put to the test. Especially if you’re having a bad day and times are hard. Temptation slips in now and again, I get tempted to return to my old familiar unhealthy ways and relapse but as soon as signs are shown I click myself right back into place. It’s expected in recovery to have a relapse; it doesn’t matter, it’s forgivable. It’s what you learn that matters.
The more I learnt what my triggers were, the less they became a problem. The key to being resilient is continual learning and self-awareness. I think with all the people who supported me, challenged me, and who responded with encouragement, understanding and empathy when I struggled are the reason I continue to fight. The reason I still have the strength to fight. The scary part is that I have to one day let this illness go. But it’s all a learning process. I am still learning now.
Because people recognised my strengths, mirrored me, and helped me to say I had strength are the reasons I have such an open mind and have courage to help others. To help others believe they have strength. My therapist never gave up on me, even though I messed him around, he’s still there. He’s an amazing person inside and out. He has shown me that new doors open when old ones close. It takes courage to walk through them, if you chose to - you are one step closer to freedom.
I learnt that I have to keep pushing myself to the edge- if I just chill through life I won’t get very far. I have to take control in recovery. However I also have to take a mental note of things that could cause a negative outcome. And that’s exactly what I have done. With eating disorders such as mine it’s important to understand your personal level and anticipate challenges. People may say “You look so much healthier” and by that they don’t mean I look fat. They mean my face isn’t grey anymore; the circles under my eyes aren’t so deep and black. My lips aren’t cracked and dry plus my hair isn’t thin and brittle anymore. They mean I am more focused on them when they talk to me. I actually make eye contact. They mean I can smile, laugh and be less serious all the time. They mean I have life again. They mean for once my happiness is real.
It’s important to plan ahead and keep busy at all times because with too much time on your hands you’re heading for disaster.
If you’re suffering just know you’re not alone. Just set yourself small but manageable goals which will lead to your long-term goals. This journey isn’t a quick process it takes time and healing to get there. Change those negative thoughts and lies into truth and positive thoughts in order to combat things that feed into your illness. Be kind to yourself. Learn from mistakes and celebrate your victories.
The hardest step in recovery is choosing recovery. It’s a life changing decision. Just think to yourself that after this one step forward you’re already half way there. But of course -baby steps, one day at a time is better than nothing. It’s best to be patient. You need to believe within yourself that recovery isn’t a myth it’s possible and easy, if you make it. You, as a human being, deserve it. You’re all beautiful in your own, unique ways.
It’s not easy, that’s the truth. Just because I am in recovery doesn’t mean I skip one last meal, just because I am in recovery doesn’t mean I don’t cry myself to sleep. Just because I am weight restored doesn’t mean I am no longer suffering. It all just means I am one step closer to having control and my life back. If I can do it then so can you. You just have to believe you can. Believe like I believe.
I got my life back; have you?
