Relapse: Return to Treatment
I had a dream a few nights ago that I was on a ship docked in a harbor. It was an overcast morning. I was leaning on the railing, watching other ships passing through the harbor as I waited for us to embark. Suddenly, a ship across the way overturned and sank. As the passengers near me on the deck began to panic, the crew assured us that everything was fine and told us to stay calm. It’s better to remain where we are, they said. But I became terrified that our ship was about to go down, too. So, I turned and ran, determined to find a way off. It’s not uncommon for me to dream...
Read MoreA Good Enough Recovery
I say often that I hesitate to admit here when I’m struggling. I say that I don’t want to be anything dimmer than a beacon of a recovery. The thing is, I’m fairly certain that no one expects me to be that. As is usually the case, the only expectations of which I’m falling short are my own. Still, I worry about disappointing people. I worry about not being able to achieve my goals as a recovery advocate and maybe even a clinician. I worry that admitting my struggles will make them more real, or bigger and badder, as if the eating disorder will take on a life of its own...
Read MoreThe Middle Ground: What No One Tells You About Recovery
I have over 2,300 photos on my phone. It’s completely overloaded. I haven’t been able to upgrade the software in months because it is too full of photos. (At least a third of which are probably my cat…) I suppose I’m like many other millennials when it comes to the photo obsession. Or maybe it’s just that I land solidly in the visual learner category. Regardless, these photos are the way that I recall my day to day life. To a casual onlooker, many of them probably seem mundane — the picture of me and my cousin on the roof of my building, or the selfie of me at...
Read MoreMore Than Weight Had Been Lost: One Year Post-Residential
I sat in the waiting area clutching the hospital gown I had been given, waiting for one of the nurses to call my name. A shoeless girl shuffled by wheeling a pole with an IV bag dangling from the top. A long tube protruded from the IV bag, snaked down the pole, and disappeared into her nose. What am I doing here? One year ago today I was admitted into a residential treatment center in Philadelphia. Emotionally, I was already drained from battling just to get to the facility. I had been told more than two weeks earlier that I wasn’t making enough progress in the day treatment program and...
Read MoreI Am So, So Tired of Recovery
Once again, while I’d prefer to be that ray of sunshine beaming down onto the dark and messy world of recovery, I wouldn’t be accurately portraying the middle ground if I did. Sometimes, this recovery thing really sucks. Fortunately, I’ve been in recovery long enough now that my new behaviors are starting to feel natural. I’m more taken aback to hear my eating disorder pipe up than I am to find myself doing something instinctively recovery-oriented. But still, there are times that I get really, really tired of all of this. Tired of spending five days a week in therapy. Tired of...
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