Finals are over, my yearbook is filled with farewells and well-wishes, my graduation cap is displayed atop the mantel in my living room and while all of my friends are about to embark on their greatest summer yet, I am staring in the face, three of the most difficult months of my life. Instead of packing for a cross country road trip with my best friends, I am packing for a two hour car ride to be admitted into residential treatment for my eating disorder, again.
I was still seventeen at the time, yet I was not forced into treatment. I made the decision on my own (with the guidance of my therapist) that something needed to change if I were to be able to attend college in the fall. This was the most difficult decision I have ever had to make. I had been in residential treatment before, but this time was different. It was my first time being treated as an adult in an adult program. The biggest difference between adult and adolescent treatment is the amount of freedom you are given. I was not constantly being watched and behaviors were so much easier to get away with. I think that is what really pushed me to take the final step in taking control of my own recovery and starting to work on myself for me.
I was in residential for a total of five weeks. The first couple of weeks were anything but easy. I used behaviors, had to supplement for the first time, and I was angry at myself for not making the progress that I believed I should’ve been making. I had this perfect image of recovery in my head and if I was not completing 100% all of the time and if I used any behaviors or didn’t participate in groups, then I was a failure. I was at a point in my recovery where I was simply sick and tired of this eating disorder and wanted so badly for there to be a magic cure. There obviously wasn’t. I remember the moment when I realized that “real recovery” is not perfect and that if I wanted to be truly free from this, I had to experience all of the rough, painful, and downright miserable parts of my recovery as well as celebrating all of the little victories.
From that moment on, real recovery began. For me, real recovery was allowing myself to struggle when I needed to and to let my emotions be present and not to suppress them. It meant advocating for myself when I needed more support. I was often overlooked even when I was struggling the most because I was so good at hiding behind a strong front. I had to unlearn this safety mechanism that I had used since childhood and allow myself to feel for once and let me tell you, it was terrifying.
While I was beginning to let myself breathe and take the time I needed to recover, I was pressed by an impending date of moving into college. With every day that passed, each day closer to move-in, I felt as if I was taking a step backward from my goal. Toward the end of my stay at residential, I began to feel hopeless that I would even be able to attend college in the fall. I almost gave up everything because I didn’t believe that I could do it. I was also dreading leaving residential. I don’t have the best track record of staying in recovery after discharge seeing as this was my fourth stint of treatment so I had reason to be nervous. I kept feeling as if there was something more that I needed from this level of care, but I came to the realization that all the work I still had to do, could not be done inside the walls of a treatment center. I had to experience the “real world” again.
After five weeks, I discharged from residential and started a partial hospitalization program (PHP). I had a mere three weeks until I was supposed to move into school, but recovery was my top priority. Unlike my other treatment stays, I had a clear image of what I wanted my recovery to look like. I didn’t just want to recover and go back to the life I left behind, I wanted to create a new reality for myself in which recovery was at the forefront. For years, I had let everything that I learned in treatment slip from my mind, but I wasn’t going to let that happen this time. I spent three weeks in PHP and everything that I was working on was to prepare me to transition smoothly into college. I made relapse prevention plans, set up support, and most importantly, I believed in myself for once. For once, I actually thought that I might make it out of this. As these three weeks passed, I struggled some, yet I continued to make the progress that I needed to. Before I knew it, my last day of PHP was upon me. I was again, terrified to leave the comfort of the amazingly supportive community that I was a part of and this time, I really was jumping into the unknown. I needed closure, so as anyone would do, I smashed a scale. The sheer exhilaration of smashing a sheet of glass onto the pavement was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I know it sounds cliche, but as the fragments of glass scattered the pavement, I felt all of my worries and fears dissipate and all that was left was pride.
If you have ever struggled with an eating disorder, you know that pride is a tricky thing. The minute you begin to feel proud of yourself for making a step forward in recovery, the eating disorder voice, no matter how quiet, retaliates with an insurmountable sense of shame. And every time you slip up, your ED praises you to no end. It’s an inescapable cycle, until you learn to distinguish that voice from your own.
So after smashing that scale, I felt proud of myself and ED was not allowed to make me feel ashamed of what I had done. Yes, the fact that I no longer had one of the last things that tied me to my destructive habits terrified me, but I felt freer than ever.
So, here I am, sitting in my college dorm room two weeks into classes, in real recovery. Three months ago, I could not imagine what going into college without the safety net of my eating disorder could possibly be like and that’s how I know that this summer was worth it. All the days spent away from home, the nights with tear-stained pillows, and all the soul searching work was worth it. Worth being able to move into college as a nursing student, worth being a part of the club figure skating team and one of the greatest groups of people I have ever been a part of, worth getting my life back and more importantly building a new life for myself. Admitting that I needed help again was one of the most difficult things that I have ever had to do, but it was the best decision that I have ever made because I am here. I am no longer merely surviving, but I am living. Living proof that it is worth it.
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