Friday, June 24, 2011

Me, Now

I officially entered treatment for anorexia in December, although I had been dabbling in eating disordered behaviors for at least eight years.  I went through a period of extreme restriction and weight loss at age thirteen when I was very sick and probably should have been hospitalized, but I dodged that bullet.  Mostly because I was too smart and sneaky for my own good, but also because my parents (and I) preferred to avoid drama at all costs.  So, a few weight checks with my mom, a stern talking-to from my pediatrician, and that was pretty much it.  I gained a bit of weight back, problem solved.

Then I had a major relapse this past year as a sophomore in college.  While I had been playing around with restriction again for most of my freshman year, enough alcohol and late-night junk food runs kept me social, sane, and at a decent weight despite a pretty anorexic mindset.  By the end of the following summer, though, I was determined to lose weight and it went downhill from there.  By November 2010, I hit my all-time lowest weight (a little under where I was at age thirteen).  When I came home for Thanksgiving, my mom freaked out and started calling doctors.  I headed back to school to finish out the semester with instructions from her to get through my exams and, basically, not die.

I maintained my weight through Christmas, started seeing a nutritionist and a therapist at home, and headed back to school in January armed with a brand new diagnosis and a massive meal plan.  Within a week, though, I was back to my old workout routine and restricting patterns.  Then the blackouts/dizziness/heart flutters started happening and scared me enough to call my mom.  She convinced me over the phone to see a doctor on campus who did an EKG and bunch of blood tests, freaked out, and just like that I was on a plane back home.

My life since January has been a blur of doctors visits, scales, food, and intense loneliness. I have battled horrible body image, screaming/bitching/crying fights with my parents, and seemingly endless food and weight gain.  In a few short months, I have isolated myself more than I ever thought possible.  Now, faced with the possibility of reemerging into life again, I feel like I might be starting to dig myself out.

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