My experience with Recovery and Relapse

       
My experience with Recovery and Relapse (Let's call them R&R).

          Having an eating disorder (ED) is a tricky thing. It is an illness, and probably the most complex illness to have.  The subject of eating disorders comes up more and more every day from what I have seen. You never REALLY understand it unless you experience it first hand. The same goes for R&R. Most (normal) people believe that, you get an ED, you go to treatment, you recover and then everything is okay right? WRONG, that could not be more wrong. So from an educational standpoint I'd like to share my experience with you on Recovery and Relapse.

          First of all I have never actually met anyone with an ED (myself included) that wants to recover. It's usually forced upon us by family and loved ones, with good intentions of course. My treatment was a bit different. I should probably start from the beginning.

          My mother and I have never had the best relationship; both of us have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder so you can just imagine how that is, and we fought all the time. Usually about different things, boys, friends, me being crazy, but ill save that for another day. Now I know what you're thinking; what does this have to do with your eating disorder? Well that's how it all started. My bad relationship with her lead to depression, which lead me to not having an appetite, which lead to my first weight loss. At the time I didn't really know anything about ED's or even that I was slowly developing one. I had got a job at this diner as a waitress just to get out of the house when I wasn't in school so I never really had any time to eat.

          After that I dropped from 140 pounds to around 120 pounds in about a month. That's when it hit me. That's also when it started to hit everyone else. I had NEVER weighed that little, I was always bigger as a kid. Well a couple months later I moved into my dads house, I lived there for about a month before that turned into complete shit. I was 17 and an idiot because I tried to run away from home. I figured it was either run away or kill myself, and I don't like being hurt so I ran. After I got carried back home by the cops (after they found me) my dad sent me straight back to my moms. At this time I hadn't been diagnosed with an ED yet, but I got to around 90 pounds. My mom decided she was going to send me to the hospital for mental illness and suicide watch.

          While at the hospital they had me answer all these questions in a book, almost like a test where you fill in the bubbles. Well about a day later a doctor took me aside into a room and asked me if anyone had ever spoken to me about my eating disorder. I probably gave this guy the dumbest look because I had no idea what he was talking about. He told me that basically he has suspected it and it was confirmed when he read my test results; that I had all the signs. I was covered in bruises, my hair was falling out, my skin was dry, my mood swings and depression all linked to this ED.

         This was a lot to take in, because it just wasn't something you heard every day and I didn't really have any idea. He told me that I was going to be put on treatment for ED from that point on; I had to gain some weight. So they had me on an eating plan, they started out with just the basic 3 meals a day. I couldn't even remember the last time I had eaten a full meal, now you want me to eat 3 a day? Okay, needless to say that didn't go so well. They started taking things away from me, like my outside time and social time, until I ate something. I'm not one for being held up so I ate to shut them up. Eating didn't come easy, I really wanted to eat I was tired of being sick. I was so used to not eating that it made me sick in the beginning. Little by little it got better, I was there for about a month and I put on around 15 pounds which they were okay with (for my height I'm supposed to weigh from 100-115 pounds).

        I felt great I thought I could really do this and be okay. I was released and somewhat happy with my progress. When I got back home things didn't really get any better as far as me and my mom. But on the bright side I was eating right? The doctor said I'm okay right? I started letting myself eat all the things I couldn't eat before like cake and chips and a bunch of junk. By the time my graduation came around a year later I weighed 145 pounds and people were telling me how good I looked. It was okay. A week after I graduated high school I moved out of my moms house with my boyfriend, a year later I noticed I was up to 180 pounds. THEN IT HIT ME..... I got FAT! How did I let myself go so far? I had no idea I had lost control. I needed to get my control back!

       Now I am covered in stretch marks, crying myself to sleep. I felt so brainwashed into believing that I'd be happy living like this. None of my clothes fit, nothing was okay anymore. I started exercising again, cutting back my portions. I thought I was going to do it the "healthy" way. That lead to cutting back even more and more. Now we are pretty much caught up to today. I have been relapsed since April this year 2014. Ive lost 23 pounds since I've gotten back to my old habits. Things haven't been easy, but right now I know that I cant stop and I really don't want to.

         Recovery was and is the hardest thing I have ever experienced, and in no way is it permanent. There are a lucky few that recover and stay recovered. As for me I suppose I wasn't one of the lucky ones. I do love hearing other peoples recovery stories, I am always cheering you guys on to recovery! I know it's hard but hopefully you all can stick it out and not end up like me! I love you all!
Please note, this all took place over a time period of about 5 years, it didn't happen over night and neither does recovery. If you are going through recovery now I wish you the best of luck!


              Until next time my Flowers!
          <3 Bloom