In the past few days, I've been really focusing on this Bible passage which comes from the book of Sirach:
CHAPTER 28
The vengeful will face the Lord’s vengeance;
indeed he remembers their sins in detail.
Forgive your neighbor the wrong done to you;
then when you pray, your own sins will be forgiven.
Does anyone nourish anger against another
and expect healing from the LORD?
Can one refuse mercy to a sinner like oneself,
yet seek pardon for one’s own sins?
If a mere mortal cherishes wrath,
who will forgive his sins?
I want so much to be healed from all of this evil that has been done to me, and all the evil and horrible things that have resulted because of them. It is not enough for me anymore to just feel bad that it happened and try and move on. I am finally facing the truth in what has happened to me, and in doing so I've also realized that there is a lot of healing to be done if I am going to truly move on.
This passage is so true; how can I expect God to help me heal from these happenings if I don't forgive the persons that are responsible for them? How am I supposed to seek mercy and forgiveness from Him if I don't show mercy and forgiveness to those who are responsible?
"Hate the sin, love the sinner." The concept is easy to understand and adapt...until you are referring to situations like the ones I've been in. How am I just supposed to hate the fact that I was abused and raped but to still "love" the abusers? How am I supposed to consider and treat these men as if they are God's children when they have done nothing but go against His word?
The problem is, there really is no answer to my questions. How am I supposed to forgive them knowing they aren't sorry for what they did? I just am. I am supposed to forgive them either way, whether they are sorry or not. I am supposed to do it for ME, not for them. In order to do so, it will take a lot of prayer and faith; I can tell you right now that having just started therapy and just started talking about all of this, I don't want to do anything but get angry and be angry at these men.
But really? Do they deserve the ability to take any more of my life away then they already have? I've spent so much time and energy on the abuse and rapes, and "relationships" that were involved, and so much time and energy on the repercussions of both that I really don't even have the energy to dwell on my anger anymore. I'm SO DONE with letting them control my life-even if it is unknown to them.
I refuse to let them "WIN", I refuse to let the Devil have his way. I refuse to let these past occurrences poison my life and my future anymore. So, I am praying for God to help me learn how to forgive these men for what they did. And also, to forgive myself for the blame I take.
Monday, August 29, 2011
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Why Is It So Hard to Be Good To Yourself?
"You're your own worst critic."
Amen.
I'm harder on myself than anyone else in this world is on me. I constantly require so much from myself in physical, mental and emotional senses and never ever cut myself a break...it's literally starting to wear me down.
"What do you do for fun Sarah?"
I have no answer for that right now. I don't know anymore what I do for fun. It used to be that I would go to the gym and get a healthy workout in, and that would be fun. I used to be able to say that I read books, wrote poetry, hung out with friends for fun-but I don't do those things anymore. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with having so many things that I need to work through-and not wanting to go out and enjoy life until those things have been worked through.
"Why do you think taking a day off and not worrying about anything or being on the go constantly is being lazy?"
I feel like if I'm not constantly on the go, if I'm not out running around doing things during the day and if I'm just sitting around at home, I feel like I'm being lazy and I feel like there's something wrong with me, like I'm sick. I feel guilt in not doing anything unless I'm sick.
My challenge from therapy today was to do just that, to just relax today and not feel guilt for relaxing. It's been nice, but I've also had a lot of guilt in not getting up and doing things today. I feel like I'm wasting time, I feel like there's so many things I need to do and by not getting up and doing them, I'm allowing myself to sit around and gain weight.
It's a constant struggle to be at war with yourself and to fight every thought and desire you have gotten so used to. But I'm trying to. And today my war is with being hard on myself. I'm trying to cut myself a break like I deserve.
For a little inspiration, a song:
Hopefully the rest of the day will be good.
Amen.
I'm harder on myself than anyone else in this world is on me. I constantly require so much from myself in physical, mental and emotional senses and never ever cut myself a break...it's literally starting to wear me down.
"What do you do for fun Sarah?"
I have no answer for that right now. I don't know anymore what I do for fun. It used to be that I would go to the gym and get a healthy workout in, and that would be fun. I used to be able to say that I read books, wrote poetry, hung out with friends for fun-but I don't do those things anymore. I'm sure a lot of it has to do with having so many things that I need to work through-and not wanting to go out and enjoy life until those things have been worked through.
"Why do you think taking a day off and not worrying about anything or being on the go constantly is being lazy?"
I feel like if I'm not constantly on the go, if I'm not out running around doing things during the day and if I'm just sitting around at home, I feel like I'm being lazy and I feel like there's something wrong with me, like I'm sick. I feel guilt in not doing anything unless I'm sick.
My challenge from therapy today was to do just that, to just relax today and not feel guilt for relaxing. It's been nice, but I've also had a lot of guilt in not getting up and doing things today. I feel like I'm wasting time, I feel like there's so many things I need to do and by not getting up and doing them, I'm allowing myself to sit around and gain weight.
It's a constant struggle to be at war with yourself and to fight every thought and desire you have gotten so used to. But I'm trying to. And today my war is with being hard on myself. I'm trying to cut myself a break like I deserve.
For a little inspiration, a song:
Hopefully the rest of the day will be good.
Monday, August 15, 2011
Crossroads
It's hard to imagine that in 3 weeks of therapy, one could go from being ready to get well and dive right into treatment to being so completely done with it that they're ready to throw in the towel and give up. That's where I'm at.
Part of me really wants to stop therapy/treatment. I want to stop eating the 'point system' diet. I want to stop eating so much food. I want to stop going to therapy to and talking about difficult things. I want to stop finding new things to bring up in therapy and work through. I want to stop doing 'homework' for therapy. I want to stop having to count the number of times I weigh myself. I want to just STOP.
It would be so easy to go back to the way things were just a few weeks ago. Eating only fruits and vegetables, eating only when I was hungry. Working out every day of the week. Weighing myself whenever I wanted to. But most importantly: feeling like I was in control.
Obviously, I wasn't in control. No one in their right mind can possibly in control of their life when they are barely eating enough to sustain life, working out every day of the week, weighing themselves upwards of 6 times a day, obsessing over every little calorie consumed, etc. Logic and reason tell me that I wasn't in control back then, and I'm still not in complete control right now, but at least I'm at a healthier place in life than I was just a few weeks ago.
But to a person with an eating disorder, restricting foods, counting calories, over-exercising, constantly weighing oneself-those are ways in which they are made to feel in control. And at least a few weeks ago, my weight was a little bit more stable that it is right now. At least I wasn't GAINING weight-the one thing I didn't want to do.
I want to get better. I want to be able to go through a day and if I'm not feeling up to exercising or don't have the energy, to not make myself go. I want to be able to eat normally and not feel guilty about it or feel like I have to run to the gym at the first opportune moment to make up for it. I want to be able to get through the day without weighing myself-or THINKING about weighing myself or what it is I weigh at the moment. I want to be able to get rid of my scale, to smash it into a million fucking pieces. I want to go out to eat on my birthday this year-which is in only a few short weeks-and eat whatever it is I want to eat and not think about the calories or potential weight gain, or go to the gym that day. I want to just enjoy the day, to simply exist and be thankful that I've lived another year. I want to get better and I want things to change.
But I don't know if I want those things right now.
Part of me really wants to stop therapy/treatment. I want to stop eating the 'point system' diet. I want to stop eating so much food. I want to stop going to therapy to and talking about difficult things. I want to stop finding new things to bring up in therapy and work through. I want to stop doing 'homework' for therapy. I want to stop having to count the number of times I weigh myself. I want to just STOP.
It would be so easy to go back to the way things were just a few weeks ago. Eating only fruits and vegetables, eating only when I was hungry. Working out every day of the week. Weighing myself whenever I wanted to. But most importantly: feeling like I was in control.
Obviously, I wasn't in control. No one in their right mind can possibly in control of their life when they are barely eating enough to sustain life, working out every day of the week, weighing themselves upwards of 6 times a day, obsessing over every little calorie consumed, etc. Logic and reason tell me that I wasn't in control back then, and I'm still not in complete control right now, but at least I'm at a healthier place in life than I was just a few weeks ago.
But to a person with an eating disorder, restricting foods, counting calories, over-exercising, constantly weighing oneself-those are ways in which they are made to feel in control. And at least a few weeks ago, my weight was a little bit more stable that it is right now. At least I wasn't GAINING weight-the one thing I didn't want to do.
I want to get better. I want to be able to go through a day and if I'm not feeling up to exercising or don't have the energy, to not make myself go. I want to be able to eat normally and not feel guilty about it or feel like I have to run to the gym at the first opportune moment to make up for it. I want to be able to get through the day without weighing myself-or THINKING about weighing myself or what it is I weigh at the moment. I want to be able to get rid of my scale, to smash it into a million fucking pieces. I want to go out to eat on my birthday this year-which is in only a few short weeks-and eat whatever it is I want to eat and not think about the calories or potential weight gain, or go to the gym that day. I want to just enjoy the day, to simply exist and be thankful that I've lived another year. I want to get better and I want things to change.
But I don't know if I want those things right now.
Sunday, August 14, 2011
Trust is a Word Seldom in my Vocabulary.
It's hard to trust that things will work out the way they should. It's hard to trust that God has a plan for everything, that he has a reason for all that I go through and have been through. It's hard to trust that things will get better, it's hard to trust people when they say they know what's best for me. It's hard to trust that I won't ever be abused again. It's hard to trust.
I think that once your trust has been used against you and abused, it's one of the hardest things to get back in life. It's hard to truly trust someone or something once you've lost trust in most other things and people. But it is also easy to understand why this happens. Let's put it into perspective:
-My parents and I trusted a babysitter to take care of me when I was younger, to make sure that I would be okay and keep me out of harm's way. Did that work out? Nope. It was at my babysitter's where her son abused me for almost 3 years, and almost every day. Looking back, I probably would've been infinitely safer staying at home by myself-even if I was only 8.
-I trusted that counselors and my parents were doing the right thing for me when they put me into the psych ward when I was in high school. That was also wrong. I never deserved to be in there, it was never a bad enough situation to call for that.
-I trusted that a man would take care of me and love me and be good to me. That was also wrong. He controlled me, manipulated me, brainwashed me, turned me against my family, kept me from doing things I enjoyed, emotionally abused me, sexually abused me and straight up LIED to me about his past. No trust.
-I've been trying to trust that the people at treatment will help me achieve what it is I want to achieve, but so far all I've done is gain weight on the plan of eating that is supposed to help me simply maintain my current weight.
-I trusted my family to be sensitive to me during this time of treatment and to help me get better...and then last night happened.
So you see, when a person tries to trust people over and over again-and that trust is shot to hell most of the time, it's very hard to trust anyone.
I think that once your trust has been used against you and abused, it's one of the hardest things to get back in life. It's hard to truly trust someone or something once you've lost trust in most other things and people. But it is also easy to understand why this happens. Let's put it into perspective:
-My parents and I trusted a babysitter to take care of me when I was younger, to make sure that I would be okay and keep me out of harm's way. Did that work out? Nope. It was at my babysitter's where her son abused me for almost 3 years, and almost every day. Looking back, I probably would've been infinitely safer staying at home by myself-even if I was only 8.
-I trusted that counselors and my parents were doing the right thing for me when they put me into the psych ward when I was in high school. That was also wrong. I never deserved to be in there, it was never a bad enough situation to call for that.
-I trusted that a man would take care of me and love me and be good to me. That was also wrong. He controlled me, manipulated me, brainwashed me, turned me against my family, kept me from doing things I enjoyed, emotionally abused me, sexually abused me and straight up LIED to me about his past. No trust.
-I've been trying to trust that the people at treatment will help me achieve what it is I want to achieve, but so far all I've done is gain weight on the plan of eating that is supposed to help me simply maintain my current weight.
-I trusted my family to be sensitive to me during this time of treatment and to help me get better...and then last night happened.
So you see, when a person tries to trust people over and over again-and that trust is shot to hell most of the time, it's very hard to trust anyone.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Fool Me Once, Shame On You. Fool Me Twice, SHAME On Me
After having gone to therapy today, I learned something/came to understand something that I've probably known on some level for a while now. Not only have I been sexually abused once when I was 8 years old, I've been abused as an adult. No names, no identifying details-I'm not ready to let so many people know about that.
All I will say is that it is just mind-blowing to me that after having been abused once, I could let it happen to myself again. And this time, I could've stopped it. I could've walked away and stayed away from the situation this time, but I didn't. It's like I CHOSE to be abused again, I CHOSE to be "damaged" even more. I CHOSE to stick with what was familiar to me-men that treat me the wrong way, take advantage of me and make me do things that I never would've otherwise.
While all of this is extremely painful to work through, admit and realize...it's a little bit relieving to have it all out in the open and not totally kept to myself.
All I will say is that it is just mind-blowing to me that after having been abused once, I could let it happen to myself again. And this time, I could've stopped it. I could've walked away and stayed away from the situation this time, but I didn't. It's like I CHOSE to be abused again, I CHOSE to be "damaged" even more. I CHOSE to stick with what was familiar to me-men that treat me the wrong way, take advantage of me and make me do things that I never would've otherwise.
While all of this is extremely painful to work through, admit and realize...it's a little bit relieving to have it all out in the open and not totally kept to myself.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
A Week Later
I really don't have the desire to keep up with this program.
I'm sitting at a very uncomfortable number on the scale. Should I be this obsessed over a number? No. Should I care that I've maybe gained a pound or two over the past week of 'normal and healthy' eating? Probably not. But it's slowly eating away at me. I've worked so FUCKING hard to get to where I am, and instead of helping me to stay where I was or get down in weight a little further, they're just making me GAIN. This is EXACTLY what I did not want to happen.
I knew when I started this that they would be forcing me or at least wanting me to eat more than I was. I knew that this was important for my body to function, but I also knew that in doing so, I'd start to gain weight. For so long now, people have been telling me that if I wouldn't restrict my food so much that I would stop gaining weight and probably lose some of the weight because my body would be getting what it actually needed...but guess what? I'm the one that's right in the end, because I've been putting up with this 'eating more in a healthy way' crap for a week now and all I've done is gain some weight. This is a losing battle right now.
This song came on the radio as I was driving home the other night. Listening to it for the first time in years, a sense of understanding came over me. I understood every lyric being sung, every emotion behind the words...it was a powerful 4 minutes. It also makes me wonder how in the world someone can grow to hate the way they look as much as I have? To be honest, I think I hate the way I look/feel/weigh now more than I did when I was 300 lbs.
I'm sitting at a very uncomfortable number on the scale. Should I be this obsessed over a number? No. Should I care that I've maybe gained a pound or two over the past week of 'normal and healthy' eating? Probably not. But it's slowly eating away at me. I've worked so FUCKING hard to get to where I am, and instead of helping me to stay where I was or get down in weight a little further, they're just making me GAIN. This is EXACTLY what I did not want to happen.
I knew when I started this that they would be forcing me or at least wanting me to eat more than I was. I knew that this was important for my body to function, but I also knew that in doing so, I'd start to gain weight. For so long now, people have been telling me that if I wouldn't restrict my food so much that I would stop gaining weight and probably lose some of the weight because my body would be getting what it actually needed...but guess what? I'm the one that's right in the end, because I've been putting up with this 'eating more in a healthy way' crap for a week now and all I've done is gain some weight. This is a losing battle right now.
This song came on the radio as I was driving home the other night. Listening to it for the first time in years, a sense of understanding came over me. I understood every lyric being sung, every emotion behind the words...it was a powerful 4 minutes. It also makes me wonder how in the world someone can grow to hate the way they look as much as I have? To be honest, I think I hate the way I look/feel/weigh now more than I did when I was 300 lbs.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Treatment: Day 1
Tuesday (yesterday) August 2nd was to be the first day of my treatment. I was supposed to go every day for a week from 8am to 6pm to this treatment facility and work on my eating disorder. To be included in this was group therapy sessions, grocery shopping outings, meal preparations, controlled meal plans, and some individual therapy sessions mixed with nutrition sessions. I was not excited about spending 10 hours a day at a strange place with strange people talking about MY problem, but I was willing to give it a try.
I woke up Tuesday morning, at 7:15 am, somewhat ready to take on this challenge. I told God that whatever would happen, I wanted him to carry me through this and help me to know what was best for me. I asked him to give me the strength and patience to try this treatment out and to put a good effort into it. I didn't want to fail the several people I had told this to, so I was going to give it my all.
When I got there, we sat in a big sunroom and waited for instruction. I was told that if I wanted to use the bathroom, I would have to ask to have it cleaned and flushed before I went because as participants in treatment, we were not allowed to flush the toilet after having used it. This was the first red flag I had. Do you know how demeaning it is to have your visits to the bathroom controlled? I can understand something like that being necessary for a bullemic, but what was the point of me being involved in that when I don't purge?
I was also given a point system and a certain number of points that I had to eat throughout the day. Each person's allotment was different, I was told, and we would all be varying the meals to fit our needs. My point total for the day was 22. For breakfast, I would have to eat 5 points worth of food. They had made an egg casserole for everyone, and that was to be 3.5 points. So I had 1.5 leftover, but I had to eat it then and there. So I added a banana for a point and half a cup of apple juice for 0.5 points. Guess what? I wasn't hungry enough for all of this crap. I don't get hungry until at least 1 or 2pm. And after that, I eat pretty consistently until about 9pm. Why was I being forced to eat when I wasn't hungry?
We all had to sit down and stay at the dinner table until everyone else was done eating. Did anyone bother to ask me anything during that time? Nope. I sat there and listened to other girls talk about things that had gone on the day/weeks before, to them talking about their favorite TV shows (I don't have cable, I have no opinion to offer on this) and to talk about vacations they had recently taken. No one really asked my name or introduced themselves, no one asked me how I was or for any background information, it was just me sitting there listening to them talk. Even the director of the day program who was sitting with us didn't say anything to me. Way to make me feel welcome.
Not only did that make me feel like an outsider, but the fact that I probably weighed the most of anyone else there, and the fact that they were all suffering from either anorexia or bullemia, that also made me feel like an outsider. Why was I in the same program as people who were infinitely more sick than I was? Guess what? I felt like I was back in the psych ward at Immanuel (like I had been back in 2004 for depression). I was somewhere I didn't belong, I was being thrown into a situation which called for treatment that was much more intense than I needed. Only this time, I was an adult and I had the say in what happened.
After breakfast we started group therapy sessions. They were not at all helpful to me. We did some kind of thought therapy which bored me to my core. During this time, I was beginning to stew up my argument and reasoning for leaving the program. After the first group therapy session was over, it was snack time. Seriously? We had just eating an hour ago and I wasn't even close to being hungry! Well, for snack I was allotted 2 points. I grabbed a pudding cup which clocked in at 120 calories, or 1.5 points. I thought this would be close enough to 2 and that I wouldn't have to hear anything about it. NOPE. I had to find something else to add in the last 0.5 points. Are you fucking kidding me? I'm pretty sure I won't die if I don't eat that last half a point-especially because I was NOT hungry. But I had to take 7 crackers and eat those as well. Meanwhile, I had barely drank anything that day, no one had told me where the glasses/water/etc was. I just did what I could with where I knew things were. Maybe I should make a suggestion to them for the program. The first day you have someone come in to the program, you should probably start out with giving them a tour of everything, introducing them to everyone, etc. Not just throwing them into it and hoping for the best.
After snack was some alone time. I filled out a questionnaire, had my vital signs taken, was weighed (p.s. weighing your patients every day in an eating disorder treatment program is retarded. I thought the point was to get people to stop worrying/thinking about their weight and to stop them from constantly weighing themselves?) and then I read my book for a little bit. Or at least acted like that's what I was doing. I was really thinking about a plan to get out of this, coming up with all the valid reasons why this program wasn't going to work for me. Meanwhile I was also texting my husband, letting him know what my thought process was. I was glad to know that he supported me 100%.
After the leisure time, it was lunch. Seriously? It's like 11:30 and you're forcing us all to eat lunch? What if I'm not hungry? Whatever happened to only eating when you're hungry and listening to your bodys' cues?? That's what I had been taught to do when I started losing weight, now I'm being forced to eat on command?
BLT's were on the menu for lunch. That was fine with me, I had actually been craving one for most of the summer and just hadn't gotten around to having one. The problem was, you had to have Mayo on the sandwich. Problem being: I had my gallbladder removed 2 years ago and since then, I don't handle things with high amounts of fat like Mayo and Peanut Butter. But was it an option? Seemingly not. One of the other girls asked if we had to put the Mayo on our sandwiches and the director said yes. So I kept my mouth shut. Don't get me wrong, I loved the way Mayo tasted on the BLT, but I had a lot of paying to do for it afterwards. It upsets my stomach and intestines a lot. 2 slices of turkey bacon: 1pt. 2 slices of bread: 2pt. 1 tablespoon of mayo: 1 pt. 1 slice of jello cake: 0.5 pts. I had to add a half cup of milk to my meal to equal the 5 pts I was allotted. I ate slow, everyone else ate so slow, I didn't want to be the fat ass that finished everything first. Once again at the table, everyone was talking about things that didn't involve a newcomer. No one asked me anything. I stayed quiet.
By the way, in the program description and having talked to the therapist about what would be included in the program before starting, we were supposed to be involved with meal preparation. Well, breakfast was made for us before we got there. Snacks were straight out of a box. Lunch was made for us (the turkey bacon was cooked for us, the vegetables were cut for us) and the jello cake was already made as well. If I'm supposed to be learning or re-learning meal preparation, where is the preparation of meals going to come in? I realize I had only been there for 2 meals, but the egg casserole would have been easy to help with and at least cutting vegetables and preparing the cake to be baked would've been easy to help with as well!
After lunch we had another group therapy. This one: Relapse Prevention. I participated in this one just to give it a shot and say that I had tried. But honestly, in my head I was mocking this. How can you possibly talk to me or teach me about preventing relapse when I haven't even begun to be treated? I had walked in that morning, been told what to eat against my will, sat and listened to one group therapy session and what? All of a sudden you're ready to teach me about how to prevent a relapse? As far as I'm concerned, that is weeks if not months ahead of schedule for me. Another suggestion I should make to the program: individualize and plan things better. Obviously some of the group therapy sessions could work for multiple patients, but some of them do not pertain to everyone at that moment or at all. So why subject everyone to them? Why waste someone's time with them who doesn't need it at all or at least not yet?
Thankfully after this pointless group therapy session I was called back to a session with the therapist by myself. When I got in there, I was relieved to hear her ask me how the day was going. And to my surprise, I let her know just what I thought. Obviously, I was much nicer about it than I had wanted to be, but I was completely honest about my opinions. I told her everything that I didn't agree with, I told her my concerns, I told her that I didn't feel this was right for me.
What is right for you?
Well, how about you and everyone else let me try and handle this problem with a less intense treatment first? I never got the chance to do that when I was thrown into the psych ward unneccesarily. I think I deserve it now. I told her I'd do therapy sessions weekly as well as meet with the Dietician every once in a while. They still urged me and recommended me to stay and try out the day program. "At least give it a week?" First of all, it's $300 for the entire week. If I am this sick of the program and this unwilling to sit around and do what you want me to do and get treatment on YOUR terms, why should I waste $300 of hard earned money to stay the rest of the week? If I have a strong feeling that something isn't right for me, it's usually right. And I'm not willing to throw away $300 to prove that to you. Because guess what? It's MY time, MY money, MY life, MY treatment. If I'm not invested in it, it's a waste of resources anyways.
I also assured her that it was not okay for me to be sitting around all day for 10 hours when there was so much more I needed/wanted to get done before school started up again. My husband and I have only been married for 3 months and I want to be able to spend some time with him before I go back to school, I want to make the most of the rest of my summer. And sitting around all day, talking to strangers and listening to stuff that doesn't pertain to me? That's not acceptable to me. She told me that it's a common complaint among clients that they aren't doing anything during the day, that they aren't getting up and being active, rather just sitting around and focusing on treatment. She said a lot of people with eating disorders are always on the go. So? What's wrong with that? It sure as hell beats sitting on my ass all day! Not to mention, there are serious health risks of doing that. It is infinitely better to get up and do things throughout the day than to sit around.
Anyways, I ended up leaving around 3pm. Right before "snack time." Thank God. I was so stuffed with food it wasn't funny. Not to mention at any second the Mayo from lunch was going to ignite a war with my digestive system and I didn't want to be anywhere BUT home for it. I left quietly, no one asked me any questions. To be honest, I don't think they remembered my name. As soon as I got out that door and into my car to drive away, I felt a huge sense of relief and of peace. I had finally spoken up for myself and my health, I had demanded treatment as I desired, and that's what I was going to be getting. Twice weekly therapy sessions, starting this Friday. I had finally stuck it to everyone who had forced me into things I didn't want to do the last time. I finally had a voice.
When I got home, I cried when I went to the bathroom. Do you know how freeing it is to do things like that without being monitored/watched over? It's great to flush the toilet by yourself and not to have to ask someone to go in and flush it for you. Even though I was only there 7 hours yesterday, it was an imprisoned 7 hours. The fact that I spoke up for myself and got out of a situation I knew wasn't right for me, it gives me the knowledge that I have the strength to do what is right for me. And because of the fact that no one thinks I'll be successful with treatment by my definition, I'm going to work hard and kick ass. I'm going to show them that I'm right. I'm going to prove them wrong.
I woke up Tuesday morning, at 7:15 am, somewhat ready to take on this challenge. I told God that whatever would happen, I wanted him to carry me through this and help me to know what was best for me. I asked him to give me the strength and patience to try this treatment out and to put a good effort into it. I didn't want to fail the several people I had told this to, so I was going to give it my all.
When I got there, we sat in a big sunroom and waited for instruction. I was told that if I wanted to use the bathroom, I would have to ask to have it cleaned and flushed before I went because as participants in treatment, we were not allowed to flush the toilet after having used it. This was the first red flag I had. Do you know how demeaning it is to have your visits to the bathroom controlled? I can understand something like that being necessary for a bullemic, but what was the point of me being involved in that when I don't purge?
I was also given a point system and a certain number of points that I had to eat throughout the day. Each person's allotment was different, I was told, and we would all be varying the meals to fit our needs. My point total for the day was 22. For breakfast, I would have to eat 5 points worth of food. They had made an egg casserole for everyone, and that was to be 3.5 points. So I had 1.5 leftover, but I had to eat it then and there. So I added a banana for a point and half a cup of apple juice for 0.5 points. Guess what? I wasn't hungry enough for all of this crap. I don't get hungry until at least 1 or 2pm. And after that, I eat pretty consistently until about 9pm. Why was I being forced to eat when I wasn't hungry?
We all had to sit down and stay at the dinner table until everyone else was done eating. Did anyone bother to ask me anything during that time? Nope. I sat there and listened to other girls talk about things that had gone on the day/weeks before, to them talking about their favorite TV shows (I don't have cable, I have no opinion to offer on this) and to talk about vacations they had recently taken. No one really asked my name or introduced themselves, no one asked me how I was or for any background information, it was just me sitting there listening to them talk. Even the director of the day program who was sitting with us didn't say anything to me. Way to make me feel welcome.
Not only did that make me feel like an outsider, but the fact that I probably weighed the most of anyone else there, and the fact that they were all suffering from either anorexia or bullemia, that also made me feel like an outsider. Why was I in the same program as people who were infinitely more sick than I was? Guess what? I felt like I was back in the psych ward at Immanuel (like I had been back in 2004 for depression). I was somewhere I didn't belong, I was being thrown into a situation which called for treatment that was much more intense than I needed. Only this time, I was an adult and I had the say in what happened.
After breakfast we started group therapy sessions. They were not at all helpful to me. We did some kind of thought therapy which bored me to my core. During this time, I was beginning to stew up my argument and reasoning for leaving the program. After the first group therapy session was over, it was snack time. Seriously? We had just eating an hour ago and I wasn't even close to being hungry! Well, for snack I was allotted 2 points. I grabbed a pudding cup which clocked in at 120 calories, or 1.5 points. I thought this would be close enough to 2 and that I wouldn't have to hear anything about it. NOPE. I had to find something else to add in the last 0.5 points. Are you fucking kidding me? I'm pretty sure I won't die if I don't eat that last half a point-especially because I was NOT hungry. But I had to take 7 crackers and eat those as well. Meanwhile, I had barely drank anything that day, no one had told me where the glasses/water/etc was. I just did what I could with where I knew things were. Maybe I should make a suggestion to them for the program. The first day you have someone come in to the program, you should probably start out with giving them a tour of everything, introducing them to everyone, etc. Not just throwing them into it and hoping for the best.
After snack was some alone time. I filled out a questionnaire, had my vital signs taken, was weighed (p.s. weighing your patients every day in an eating disorder treatment program is retarded. I thought the point was to get people to stop worrying/thinking about their weight and to stop them from constantly weighing themselves?) and then I read my book for a little bit. Or at least acted like that's what I was doing. I was really thinking about a plan to get out of this, coming up with all the valid reasons why this program wasn't going to work for me. Meanwhile I was also texting my husband, letting him know what my thought process was. I was glad to know that he supported me 100%.
After the leisure time, it was lunch. Seriously? It's like 11:30 and you're forcing us all to eat lunch? What if I'm not hungry? Whatever happened to only eating when you're hungry and listening to your bodys' cues?? That's what I had been taught to do when I started losing weight, now I'm being forced to eat on command?
BLT's were on the menu for lunch. That was fine with me, I had actually been craving one for most of the summer and just hadn't gotten around to having one. The problem was, you had to have Mayo on the sandwich. Problem being: I had my gallbladder removed 2 years ago and since then, I don't handle things with high amounts of fat like Mayo and Peanut Butter. But was it an option? Seemingly not. One of the other girls asked if we had to put the Mayo on our sandwiches and the director said yes. So I kept my mouth shut. Don't get me wrong, I loved the way Mayo tasted on the BLT, but I had a lot of paying to do for it afterwards. It upsets my stomach and intestines a lot. 2 slices of turkey bacon: 1pt. 2 slices of bread: 2pt. 1 tablespoon of mayo: 1 pt. 1 slice of jello cake: 0.5 pts. I had to add a half cup of milk to my meal to equal the 5 pts I was allotted. I ate slow, everyone else ate so slow, I didn't want to be the fat ass that finished everything first. Once again at the table, everyone was talking about things that didn't involve a newcomer. No one asked me anything. I stayed quiet.
By the way, in the program description and having talked to the therapist about what would be included in the program before starting, we were supposed to be involved with meal preparation. Well, breakfast was made for us before we got there. Snacks were straight out of a box. Lunch was made for us (the turkey bacon was cooked for us, the vegetables were cut for us) and the jello cake was already made as well. If I'm supposed to be learning or re-learning meal preparation, where is the preparation of meals going to come in? I realize I had only been there for 2 meals, but the egg casserole would have been easy to help with and at least cutting vegetables and preparing the cake to be baked would've been easy to help with as well!
After lunch we had another group therapy. This one: Relapse Prevention. I participated in this one just to give it a shot and say that I had tried. But honestly, in my head I was mocking this. How can you possibly talk to me or teach me about preventing relapse when I haven't even begun to be treated? I had walked in that morning, been told what to eat against my will, sat and listened to one group therapy session and what? All of a sudden you're ready to teach me about how to prevent a relapse? As far as I'm concerned, that is weeks if not months ahead of schedule for me. Another suggestion I should make to the program: individualize and plan things better. Obviously some of the group therapy sessions could work for multiple patients, but some of them do not pertain to everyone at that moment or at all. So why subject everyone to them? Why waste someone's time with them who doesn't need it at all or at least not yet?
Thankfully after this pointless group therapy session I was called back to a session with the therapist by myself. When I got in there, I was relieved to hear her ask me how the day was going. And to my surprise, I let her know just what I thought. Obviously, I was much nicer about it than I had wanted to be, but I was completely honest about my opinions. I told her everything that I didn't agree with, I told her my concerns, I told her that I didn't feel this was right for me.
What is right for you?
Well, how about you and everyone else let me try and handle this problem with a less intense treatment first? I never got the chance to do that when I was thrown into the psych ward unneccesarily. I think I deserve it now. I told her I'd do therapy sessions weekly as well as meet with the Dietician every once in a while. They still urged me and recommended me to stay and try out the day program. "At least give it a week?" First of all, it's $300 for the entire week. If I am this sick of the program and this unwilling to sit around and do what you want me to do and get treatment on YOUR terms, why should I waste $300 of hard earned money to stay the rest of the week? If I have a strong feeling that something isn't right for me, it's usually right. And I'm not willing to throw away $300 to prove that to you. Because guess what? It's MY time, MY money, MY life, MY treatment. If I'm not invested in it, it's a waste of resources anyways.
I also assured her that it was not okay for me to be sitting around all day for 10 hours when there was so much more I needed/wanted to get done before school started up again. My husband and I have only been married for 3 months and I want to be able to spend some time with him before I go back to school, I want to make the most of the rest of my summer. And sitting around all day, talking to strangers and listening to stuff that doesn't pertain to me? That's not acceptable to me. She told me that it's a common complaint among clients that they aren't doing anything during the day, that they aren't getting up and being active, rather just sitting around and focusing on treatment. She said a lot of people with eating disorders are always on the go. So? What's wrong with that? It sure as hell beats sitting on my ass all day! Not to mention, there are serious health risks of doing that. It is infinitely better to get up and do things throughout the day than to sit around.
Anyways, I ended up leaving around 3pm. Right before "snack time." Thank God. I was so stuffed with food it wasn't funny. Not to mention at any second the Mayo from lunch was going to ignite a war with my digestive system and I didn't want to be anywhere BUT home for it. I left quietly, no one asked me any questions. To be honest, I don't think they remembered my name. As soon as I got out that door and into my car to drive away, I felt a huge sense of relief and of peace. I had finally spoken up for myself and my health, I had demanded treatment as I desired, and that's what I was going to be getting. Twice weekly therapy sessions, starting this Friday. I had finally stuck it to everyone who had forced me into things I didn't want to do the last time. I finally had a voice.
When I got home, I cried when I went to the bathroom. Do you know how freeing it is to do things like that without being monitored/watched over? It's great to flush the toilet by yourself and not to have to ask someone to go in and flush it for you. Even though I was only there 7 hours yesterday, it was an imprisoned 7 hours. The fact that I spoke up for myself and got out of a situation I knew wasn't right for me, it gives me the knowledge that I have the strength to do what is right for me. And because of the fact that no one thinks I'll be successful with treatment by my definition, I'm going to work hard and kick ass. I'm going to show them that I'm right. I'm going to prove them wrong.
The Vacation
In preparation for having gone out of town for 3 days, I made sure to eat minimally and exercise as much as I could. I knew that once I got out of the city, I was at the mercy of my body and what it would choose to do with all the fast food we would be eating.
You have no idea how hard it is for someone with an addiction to healthy eating/exercise to be out of their element for 3 days. To know that I didn't have the means to workout like I normally do every day, to eat right and control what it is I'm putting into my body...it was a sense of having lost all control of my eating and weight. I told myself multiple times throughout the weekend that when I got back, I would have to get down to business when it came to working out. I also made a bet with myself, one in which there would be no winner, that when I stepped on the scale after we came home, I would have gained at least 4 pounds.
So all weekend, while I did eat out and consume normal amounts of food, I was wrecked with guilt, with anxiety and with knowing that when I came back, I was going to punish myself for everything I had done that weekend. It was very uncomfortable to be in my skin, it was uncomfortable to eat a normal meal and not be able to go work it off at the gym afterwards. It was uncomfortable to sit around and just try to enjoy doing nothing. But I did it, I had promised my husband that I would and I didn't want to let an eating disorder prevent me from keeping that promise.
Not only did I worry about this all weekend, I worried about starting treatment on Tuesday when I got back. I worried about how many other people were going to be there, how sick everyone else would be in comparison to me, how they would look at me/treat me, I was worried about what they would make me eat, what they would make me do throughout the day, etc. I wasn't looking forward to it. Hell, I had almost talked myself out of going, but I had also made a promise to many family and friends that I would at least try it. So there was no backing out of that one either.
Anyways, when I came home, one of the first things I did was jump on that scale. Guess what? I had only gained maybe a pound. This pisses me off. If I eat normal amounts of food, I gain only a little weight or sometimes even lose weight. But if I restrict my intake, I gain like crazy? It frustrates me that people can not get the science of eating and weight gain down to a tee so that people don't have to struggle and work so hard at it. Haven't I already put enough work into this??
You have no idea how hard it is for someone with an addiction to healthy eating/exercise to be out of their element for 3 days. To know that I didn't have the means to workout like I normally do every day, to eat right and control what it is I'm putting into my body...it was a sense of having lost all control of my eating and weight. I told myself multiple times throughout the weekend that when I got back, I would have to get down to business when it came to working out. I also made a bet with myself, one in which there would be no winner, that when I stepped on the scale after we came home, I would have gained at least 4 pounds.
So all weekend, while I did eat out and consume normal amounts of food, I was wrecked with guilt, with anxiety and with knowing that when I came back, I was going to punish myself for everything I had done that weekend. It was very uncomfortable to be in my skin, it was uncomfortable to eat a normal meal and not be able to go work it off at the gym afterwards. It was uncomfortable to sit around and just try to enjoy doing nothing. But I did it, I had promised my husband that I would and I didn't want to let an eating disorder prevent me from keeping that promise.
Not only did I worry about this all weekend, I worried about starting treatment on Tuesday when I got back. I worried about how many other people were going to be there, how sick everyone else would be in comparison to me, how they would look at me/treat me, I was worried about what they would make me eat, what they would make me do throughout the day, etc. I wasn't looking forward to it. Hell, I had almost talked myself out of going, but I had also made a promise to many family and friends that I would at least try it. So there was no backing out of that one either.
Anyways, when I came home, one of the first things I did was jump on that scale. Guess what? I had only gained maybe a pound. This pisses me off. If I eat normal amounts of food, I gain only a little weight or sometimes even lose weight. But if I restrict my intake, I gain like crazy? It frustrates me that people can not get the science of eating and weight gain down to a tee so that people don't have to struggle and work so hard at it. Haven't I already put enough work into this??
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