Three Years in “Recovery”… Will it EVER get easier?
Posted Sep 29 2008 8:11pm
Rehab? No. Oh… I’m an addict alright…. I’m addicted to ED… My Eating Disorder. Three years ago this month, I was finally released out of River Oaks Pysch Hospital (Eating Disorder Ward), in New Orleans after eight weeks there. Eight weeks of “force-feeding” and re-programming of my psyche. Did it work? Am I “healed”? Oh… I dunno… I’m “stable”, if that’s what you mean.. I’m at “normal weight”, and have been for about a year and a half… if THAT’S what you mean…. but every thought I have concerning food is still f ‘ ed up! I can’t look at food without seeing it actually ON me… I can’t look at my body and appreciate my size 4 shape without longing for my ‘double zero’ back again…. And, I know… THAT’S the effed up part, isn’t it? So much of my life revolves around HAVING to eat…. and my downright refusal to do so… But I don’t refuse to eat anymore, right? WRONG! oh sure…. I DO now make myself eat at least one meal a day… I DO force myself away from the scale most days, so that I usually only weigh myself once or twice a month…. so I KNOW that I’m stable, but I don’t dwell on every shift of one or two pounds anymore…
AM I BETTER? I MUST BE, right? My therapist hasn’t called me back this week to reschedule our appointment that I missed last week, even though I left a message for her to do so…. My kids aren’t trying to feed me anymore… (that was heartbreaking to watch, and the REAL reason I went in for treatment to begin with)…
I’ve suffered with an eating disorder (namely, anorexia nervosa) for more than 40 years, if the truth be known… I spent my first birthday… yes, that’s right… my FIRST birthday… in the hospital being force fed because I was too weak to walk… why? because I refused all foods… only taking in milk. Why? We don’t know, but I have some pretty awful flashbacks involving a baby, and a man… that I don’t think I need to go further into right now… let’s just suffice to say, it makes me sick to my stomach….
I KNOW I am the survivor of childhood sexul abuse. I have confronted my father, and he has admitted it…. and life goes on, right? Riiiiiight. *insert industrially smiling emoticon right here, right now* Help me out here, UM….
Well… life DOES go on… even when you’re trapped in nightmares you don’t understand, flashbacks in the middle of having sex with your husband, behavior with other men… that you don’t understand, and a cynical outlook toward every stranger you meet, that he’s “after” your 13 year old daughter….. Because he just might be!
I know that I am not alone in this… I know that there are many of us out there… suffering as AMAC’s (Adults Molested As Children) Many of us have mood disorders, personality disorders, eating disorders, disordered disorders, and we’re feeling alone, confused, and unvalidated. Well, stick out your card, and let me validate you right now, right here.
Shove the shame up somebody else’s chimney… YOU don’t have to live with it! Why should WE carry the burden of shame? We’ve done nothing wrong! I’m tired of feeling shame… and to tell you the truth, it eats away at my confidence if I do… and it eats (when even I don’t) away at my Eating Disorder. I believe it’s totally to blame for my anorexia….
There’s a huge part of me that can only be comfortable in a body without curves… without bumps and bundles… without breasts, without hips… and in order to get past that….well… I have to accept that it was NOT my fault… and learn to accept this woman’s body that threatens to show itself, and get noticed by men each time I take a nourishing bite.
And that’s the most difficult part.
So here I am… three years later… sitting by the wayside, on the road to recovery… Wondering… Do I stay parked here? Or do I mosey on down the road? It’s scary out here, I kid you not… VERY scary…. Each twist of the road is full of memories and boogie men at every turn….
I can’t go back though…. I can’t have my children WATCH me waste away…. What kind of mother would I be if I did that?
Less than the mother I WANT to be, said I.
So… with help… I’ll amble on… destination? Recovery… Wherever THAT is. I’ll need lots of encouragement, and occasionally a leg-up… But I’ve got my “girls” here with me… and they’ve ALWAYS been here for me… so… it is with a bit of trepidation, and a few blonde jokes in my pocket, that I “carry on”….