:: transformations

I was used to the same things and feared change more than I feared anything in life. Perhaps I thought that change would mean things would only get worse or that the world was going to judge me for attempting to do something different. Whatever the reason, I held myself in positions where I was comfortable and some that were uncomfortable because of the fear.

I could sit here and write all about the ebbs and flows of my 25 years on earth, but I will save myself the time and get right to the point. I have an eating disorder or two or three and have been sick since those early years when I first started to develop into a young woman. All I have known is ED and I have been clueless how to live life as an adult who has a normal relationship with myself and with food. I continued on the same path day in and day out and arrived to my therapy sessions with yet another, 'Well, it hasn't been a good week with ED."

I did very little to work my therapy and to work toward recovery. In fact, the only things I did were little projects like decorating my "Urge to Purge" jar or making pillows for Susie's office. As for the hard stuff (i.e.: eating, not purging, not spitting food out), I hadn't made an effort beyond one or two meals a month. It was like I thought as long as I did okay the day before my sessions or the day of my sessions, that meant I was in recovery. WRONG!

I got tired of the expense of seeing Susie and Niki every week and never having anything new to tell them. I wasn't in recovery and I was only fooling myself. I kept saying, "Therapy is going well. I'm learning a lot and doing better." Ha, the only thing I was doing was driving an hour every Tuesday morning, sitting on Niki's couch and then in a chair at Susie's, listening to new advice and even some old advice and saying, "I know and I am trying." Every session was the same. Every session until Tuesday, Oct. 16 (just a few days ago).

I had been engaged in purging behavior almost 24 hours a day for a week and a half prior to my Oct. 16 sessions. I had emptied the kitchen of the hundreds of dollars worth of groceries mom had bought just a week before. I couldn't stop. It was as if there was a demon inside of me forcing me to engage in these behaviors. I was numb, but also slightly fearful that Niki would weigh me after all was said and done and I would have gained several pounds. WRONG AGAIN!

So, as I sat in my sessions I felt a deep sadness. I felt this need to walk out and never turn back. I cancelled my appointments for the following weeks claiming I was also going to see my medical doctor that day. At that point, even as I stared at Susie's face for 50 minutes, I wanted out. I wanted no part of recovery. I had accepted that I would be sick forever and no one could help me. I was a lost cause and there was no reason for me to keep spending my hard-earned journalist's paycheck to just come in the same as the weeks before.

But something happened as Susie and I engaged in a conversation regarding my appearance as a child and then teenager. Looking at a photo album that revealed how I looked before ED really took me down, the two of us I think were moved to tears. Susie looked at me and said, "I've seen enough. You've never had a weight problem. You had such a beautiful figure. I am putting you back on the schedule for next week." I was silent. I didn't know what I should say at that moment because I knew ED had stolen not only my "beautiful figure," but everything I was or could have been. In the pictures was a girl who was smiling, a girl who used to make everyone laugh with her infamous Jim Carey impressions and her ability to dress up in crazy outfits and parade around the house as if she had not a care in the world. It's true...I was carefree. I had life inside of me. However, all of that changed the more ED controlled me and I became lifeless and fragile.

I don't know exactly what happened Tuesday. Was it that I had had enough or that I was afraid I would let my treatment team down if I failed at recovery? Was it that I felt for the first time in my life like someone else actually believed I was worth living? Whatever the reason, I woke up the next morning and pulled a quote (for the first time) from my inspirational jar. I read the quote, wrote it in my journal and then grabbed my index cards of combative thoughts (negative ED thoughts on the front, positive thoughts on the back), read one card front and back, placed it in my purse where I could read it all day at work and entered the kitchen where I ate breakfast without purging it from my body. Three days later, I sit typing this at my desk in the newsroom and realize it has now been 3 and 1/2 days since my last purge.

To say that this has been a miracle for me and a HUGE step in my recovery would be an understatement and I am so excited to tell Susie and Niki. The irony is that after two horrible weeks with ED, I don't even feel the urge to purge. It's like some higher power as taken it away from me and I am FINALLY, after 13 years, making progress.
(NOW 14 DAYS!!!)
Meredith
10-23-07

Ten minutes late, walking into a room full of complete strangers. This is how I found myself, after getting stuck in traffic and attempting to use that as my excuse not to go, on my first night of group. Not a bone in my tiny fragile body wanted to start group three distant months ago, but I was forced to go. I just sat there looking around and taking in everything, not speaking unless spoken to. I felt nothing I would say could be good enough and fearing I would sound dumb. Looking back now, that thinking was so irrational, ED had just corrupted my thoughts. I would NEVER have thought I would be where I am today. Group has been what has really changed my life. It has given me more than just an assembly of unfamiliar people, but friends that really do understand. Everyone in the "outside world" tries to understand ED, and I give them major credit. However, having a group of people who have or are in your situation and share the same problems, fears, disappointments, triumphs and defeats, and whom can speak from experience, is something words can't explain. The power of group is something I can't fully express in words as it has been deep rooted so tightly into my heart.

Group provides a safe haven. A place where you can reveal your darkest secrets you have kept bottled up for so long, fearing no one would understand and not be judged, but understood. From the moment I leave group at the end of the session, I cannot wait for the next Tuesday at 6 p.m. to come. I have found a home in this office, and a family in the members. A home where the welcome mat never seems to wear, just as the groups welcomeness and love remains a constant in my life. Everyone leaves their differences behind, and embraces one another for who they are. We may not look alike on the outside nd may not appear to be a family. However, on the inside we are bound together by love, strength, courage and hope. And afterall, it's what is inside that really matters, right?

We are so much like a team. If someone is down and missing from the "field", we all work together to fill his/her place to keep fighting the battle. When one of us is down, we are all there to pick that individual up and get her/him back on track. No man or woman is ever left behind. We are a team, constantly fighting a battle with dreams of conquering ED and LIVING our lives unchained. You can tear at us, try to break us apart, but the walls we have formed together cannot be brought down, by anyone or anything. Not even ED!!!

Group has literally saved my life. It has eliminated room for death and feeling worthless. It has made room for opportunity, chance, hope, truth and love. If it weren't for each and every member of this special group, each contributing to my progress, I could possibly only be living memories. Although we can always learn from the past and try to fix our mistakes, nothing can fix a life. Nothing can bring back a life that was taken by a hellacious monster named ED. This group is the reason I am living. It is proof that everyone we meet impacts our lives and proof of an unbreakable love.

Group has given me the ability to see the world beyond the four walls of this "jail." ED has confined me too. Each individual has given me the words, encouragement and strength to slowly move toward my quest of triumphing over ED. Although everything isn't sugar-coated, what people say you need to hear. That is merely each of us looking out for our "family" And sometimes, the truth hurts. But so does ED. That is something group has taught me, ED lies, ED deceives us. No one wants to live in a life filled with lies. Why not live for the truth, live for the future and just LIVE?

This group has slowly given me the power to undo, link by link, the ball and chain ED has bound me to. When someone falls, we become a safety net and catch them. When one rises, we are their biggest fans. We are each other's strength and hope for the future. Unfortunately, we were brought together by ED, but have since managed to teach, learn and discover who we REALLY are and what we are meant to do by leaning on one another and walking hand in hand. Distance may break us apart physically, but the bonds shared in our hearts between our "family" can never be severed. There is a quote that says "chance made us family, hearts made us friends." I say "chance brought us together, hearts made us family."

Nine, the number of times I have eaten today and had to contemplate what I would do with the food that just entered my system. Nine, the number of times I chose to place my face in a dirty toilet bowl to throw up the food I just consumed.

As I finish doing injustice to my body, I stand up and things seem to spin. Black dots cover my vision and my head gets a rush of blood. My heart feels a slight pinch of pain, and worst of all, I feel the weight of all my problems come rumbling down on me. But as I clean myself up and get myself situated, I can't help but feel the satisfaction in my life because I am thin.

This was an everyday occurrence for me. Everyday when I ate food, I was burdened with the thought of how get rid of it. No matter if it was an apple or a piece of pizza, somehow I would find a way to rid myself of the evil I just endured.

Life went on this way for eight long years. Manipulating the people in my life who were closest to me, nobody knew, and I made sure to keep it that way. I'm sure people often wondered why I went to the bathroom so much, but noone ever asked. I lived a life for only ED. Every move I made depended on what ED told me to do, and I was all too happy to comply. Until I made a life change.

The last couple of months of my purging, before I got help, became increasingly more intense. It was more intense than it had ever been in the last eight years, which made it more difficult. Not that it was hard for me to throw up, but mentally I was becoming exhausted. Keeping this a secret for so long was draining. I was living with my fiancé and I did not want him to know. So I had to sneak around more, which led me to become more aware of what I was actually doing. I started to feel guilty about purging, guilty about the way I was trying to keep thin. So I started eating less, hoping that I wouldn't purge as much. Which led me to lose weight. Because even though I was barely eating, I was purging anything that entered my body. People close to me started to notice that I was getting thinner. So I started weighing myself every time I entered the bathroom. I was happy when the scale went lower and lower, happy until it said 99 lbs.

For so long, I was in denial. Not really denying that I personally had a problem, but denying my sickness to the world. People would ask me "How do you stay so thin?" and I would just shrug my shoulders. But ED would make sure I told myself, because ED knew that I stayed thin by doing what he said.

At this point I knew that I had a serious problem. I wanted to try to tell someone, anyone that would listen. I just needed the right time. I found the right time one day after work. My two coworkers and I went to a restaurant/bar after work, right before our two-week Christmas vacation. I had a couple drinks and I found my time. I released a secret that had dug itself deep into my soul, and I felt more liberated than I EVER had. So the secret didn't stop there. As soon as I got home I told my fiancé, and then I told my mom.

Telling my mom was the hardest thing I ever had to do. I didn't want to disappoint her, I didn't want to let her down, but most of all I didn't want to hurt her. She listened and asked questions and I told her everything. I think she was hurting, but not for her, for me. I agreed that it was time to get help.

I knew I was going to have a rocky road ahead of me when I couldn't find an eating disorder specialist that wasn't a hospital treatment center. I tried all avenues - family doctor, therapist, psychiatrist and even my OB/GYN, but none of these doctors were right for me. When I finally did find two ED specialists they informed me that they weren't accepting new patients. After two months of this I became more frustrated and more discouraged and just assumed that this was the end of the road for me. That I would have bulimia until it killed me. I was so distressed; I wanted to get help but I couldn't! I remember crying and feeling more depressed and isolated than ever. I started to doubt everything in my life, including my engagement to Mark. Nothing in my life made sense and I just wanted out.

Just when I started to give up, Dr. Susie Mendelsohn entered my life. Somehow I stumbled upon her name and tried my last line. It seemed almost too perfect when I was able to get an appointment with her. I finally had some hope. I waited anxiously for three weeks, until her assistant called me and told me she wouldn't be able to see me. To say I was upset was an understatement. I cried, not because I was angry, but because I knew this was it. I knew that I was going to eventually die from this. And I was scared because I tried and just couldn't get help. I remember that after I got that phone call I went to bed and just curled myself into a ball. I just prayed that somehow I would be saved. That God would give me one last chance to live again, and later that night He did.

Ann called me back and told me that Dr. Susie would see me. She had just saved my life.

February 20, 2006 was the first day of my new life. My chance to break free from the cocoon I was in. I talked about everything and let all my barriers down. Freedom was in my future and I didn't want anything to stop it. Not after eight years of living in hell.

Slowly Dr. Susie led me down a road that taught me ways of living life without ED, ways of getting a hold of the situation and riding myself of all the fears I've had. It wasn't all that glorious, especially because I was preparing myself for a wedding. But she was able to get me to a point where I was sure of myself and sure of the choices I had made. She worked with me and didn't put pressure on me before the big day. She knew I was worried about fitting into "the dress". So my progress up until this point was shaky.

But then it hit me, after the wedding and honeymoon and coming back to reality, my readiness to fight ED was in full force. I looked back at myself over the past year and realized that I came here for a reason. I saw Dr. Susie that Tuesday, after all the big events and we talked. She said, "Okay, it's over, now you're ready. What's holding you back?" I thought about that and it sunk in. My life depended on whether or not I could fight. FIGHT. Something I never thought I would do. But I am. For the first time in my life I am fighting, fighting to stay alive and fighting to get rid of ED. It's been 16 days since I have last purged. Sixteen days since I wanted him in my life. But the fight is stronger than the urge and I will continue to fight for my freedom, because I deserve it. I deserve to feel FREE!

A few weeks ago, in my journal, I came to the realization that much of my life is characterized by overachieving and overeating. When I shared that in therapy, Susie said: "I'm not sure that you don't reward yourself for overachieving by overeating." I had never looked at it that way. I had always considered both behaviors symptomatic of low self esteem.

Those words resonated within my soul. Hmmm, yes. I did always overachieve and I did always overeat. Yes, it would make sense that I could almost entitle myself to overeat by overachieving. Even after being honest for the first time in my life and looking at medical professionals and saying: "I feel out of control." I continued to overeat. The shame was overwhelming. Going to my doctor and telling her that "I know I eat too much and I don't know what to do about it" was one of the hardest things I've ever done.

I thought there would be some sort of magic spell placed upon me after being honest for the first time in my life. Certainly I'd get in my car and be completely divorced from food. I'd never again stand at the closet and have one more handful of potato chips or wake up in the morning hoping no one had eaten the cookies in the pantry.

I was wrong. Even after meeting Susie for the first time and realizing that I was not alone, I continued to binge. I felt bad about being in therapy, shackled to the stigma society places on those who take anti-depressants and seek counseling. I saw therapy as one more thing that made me different from the rest of the world. My life has always been characterized by the fringe. Never "like" everyone else. So I used the fact that there was something wrong with me and the way it made me feel as a license to continue to binge, gain, and feel shame. It has been the cycle of my life. When will it ever change? This essay is supposed to be about the metamorphosis of change. Well, I know I'm not there yet, but I'm starting to understand that Rome wasn't built in a day and that two steps forward and one step back is indeed progress.

After eight months of therapy for compulsive overeating, I went back to the physician for back pain. As kindly as she could, she told me that it had to do with my tummy. In other words, at 296 lbs, my stomach had become so big, that it was straining my lower back. I cried for three days. Coincidentally, my husband brought home a Dixie Chicks CD to try and cheer me up. I started to listen to it, and between the visit to the doctor, the weight on the scale, and the music in my head, something within me began to shift.

It felt like being in fifth grade at a sleepover when an hour after ghost stories we'd say to one another: "did you hear that?" I wanted to walk around to people and ask them if they could feel what I was feeling. "Can you feel that?" I walked into Susie's office and explained to her that I was "mad as hell" and ready to do something about it. The shift had occurred. Perhaps in the cycle of metamorphosis I am just building my cocoon. I'm gathering all the tools I've acquired, building a therapeutic wall around myself. I'm not ashamed of being in therapy. I'm proud of it! How many people are as courageous as me? Not many in my circles. I acknowledge what I need help with and am willing to use the tools given to me. The whole world is not judging me, the whole world isn't even concerned with me. I'm the one who needs to be concerned with me. I am worth taking care of. I am doing that. On a daily basis, choice by choice.