What Happened To Treatment?

I started a blog and then I disappeared. So what happened? Well, that is quite a story - one that upsets me even now. Let me start by sharing with you the email that I sent out to my friends:

Here's the story: My eating disorder (EDNOS - not exactly anorexia or bulimia) is in full force right now. After much arm twisting, Hubby got the treatment center to give us a payment plan. We handed them $1100 that we had scraped together and they said my insurance had approved me so that I could start Partial Hospital treatment (10 hours per day, 7 days a week).

I started treatment on Monday. I thought I was going to die. I have studiously avoided having any relationship with food for a very long time. All of the sudden, they had me picking out menus (of food I do NOT like) and eating 3 meals and 3 snacks a day. Plus drinking lots of water. It was sometimes hard not to cry when I saw the food on my plate. If I didn't eat everything, they would ask me to drink a supplement called Peptimin (sp?) so that I would still get nutrition. 

Eating all of that food affected me in two ways - it "woke up" my body and it "woke up" lots of emotions. The therapy sessions did the same thing. On the first day I got pulled out of sessions by the direct care staff, the nurse, the psychiatrist, and the dietitian to tell the story of my eating disorder in minute detail to each one of them. So I had to keep repeating it. I had to keep remembering how it started and why it was active now. 

Going Back

Up this morning. Do NOT want to go back to treatment. First, doing 10 hours per day is exhausting. I have not done 10 hours of anything for months. All of the questions and emotions and eating new things - any one of them would have been enough to put me through the wringer. All together, they just ripped me up.

Secondly, it is hard to have to tell your story over and over in one day to several different people. The nurse. The psychiatrist. The dietician. The counselor. And every time one of them says, "wait, back up... you did this why?", I feel like they are questioning my honesty or why I think I have a problem. Most likely those thoughts never entered their heads, but that does not mean it did not enter my head.

Thirdly, I do not want to eat any new foods again. But that promises to be part of my day.

Conclusion: I do not want to go back. But I am going.

The End of the Day

I made it through Day 1. It was exhausting. I was pushed in ways that I had never imagined. This is much different than the treatment I received in 1999. I'm so exhausted I can barely see, but I wanted you to know that I made it through.

Day 1

I have not even left the house to go to the treatment center yet, and I am already so mad at the men in my family that I could just spit. So many of the feelings of worthlessness that push me into my eating disorder are directly connected to those men. I beg God to release me from caring about them and He says, "No." It is hard not to be angry at God for that, but He is the potter. The pot He creates ought not be mouthing off to Him.

This is going to suck.

Scary

Tomorrow is my first day of treatment. I know I need it, but I so do not want to give up control to these people. Even if they are trying to help me. This is going to suck.

Not Otherwise Specified

When I was quite young, the "You are what you eat" public service announcements were all over the place. Without knowing that my mind was willing to lie to me, I "figured out" that if I ate the same foods my family ate, I would become like them. There were scary and hurtful things going on in my life that made becoming like "them" a very bad idea. "They" ate fairly healthy food, so this little idea left me with only junk to survive on. Brilliant, isn't it?

I was also very cognizant of money being a big issue in our family. Huge. Once more, my lying mind had "figured out" that since I had already been "given away" once (adoption at birth), I could possibly be given away again. I had been told that my birthmother relinquished me because she could not afford to take care of me. Also, my father was on the Board of Directors of a children's home, so I knew there was some place to send me. I needed to make sure that I did not cost my family too much money or I would be sent away. What costly thing was I willing to give up? Toys, clothes, or bubble gum? No. I was willing to give up food. More brilliance.

It's A Start

This is going to suck. It really is. But I'm going to do it.