Outpatient Treatment

In 2006, with the encouragement of a counselor, I enrolled myself into an outpatient treatment center for my eating disorder. I can’t say I regret this decision, but looking back on the entire process, I really had no help in the matter nor was I experienced enough to go finding treatment on my own. I pretty much settled for the nearest facility closest to where I lived and went for it. And the kicker? It wasn’t even exclusively for eating disorders. They claimed to be open to most addictions (drugs, alcohol, eating disorders, and gambling), but they only really catered to alcoholics and drug addicts. When I began, I was one of two people with an eating disorder (hers was bulimia), and the other ten or so people had issues with drugs and/or alcohol. You could imagine the alienation I felt when each class we’d learn about the disease of addiction in terms of substances vs. the mental obsession with food and weight. There were some days I felt like I was the freak in a circus; the other members and family members often asking me questions about weight and whatnot. I understand the general population’s curiosity with eating disorders, and I won’t pretend like I didn’t like the attention, but imagine being in a room (I literally just typed “food” instead of “room”) with ten addicts and their family members all wondering why you can’t just eat, or why you are so conceited, or why you think you are so fat when you clearly aren’t. Yeah.

There was one staff member actually qualified to treat eating disorders, although it was not her speciality, and because she was the director, she seldom held any therapy sessions. Her role was to occasionally lead the family education sessions, which mostly catered to individuals who were dealing with loved ones who were addicted. My primary counselor, even though she claimed to have anorexia in high school (I’m willing to bet she was more like the many celebrities who claim to have had EDs), she received her certificate in substance abuse counseling, and therefore, was technically not qualified to treat me in any way. Their only real positive was that they had a dietician on staff, and even though the dietician was good,  there was no real way for anyone to monitor what I was eating (or not eating) during the week when I was home.

Because the facility catered towards people with substance abuse issues, there were no real groups on body image, food and nutrition, or anything else eating disorder related. Granted, in my opinion, addiction is addiction (even though eating disorders are technically seen as mental disorders and not addictions), I did get a lot from groups on assertiveness, boundary setting, and co-dependency, but I was still lacking imperative information about where my eating disorder actually came from. Everybody, including the staff, still saw my eating disorder as a means to “stop being so fat,” and the real issues were somewhat ignored. To give the place some credit, outpatient treatment isn’t as intensive as inpatient, so I understand I wasn’t going to really dig down into the deeper stuff unless I was admitted to residential.

In terms of being medically monitored, I was one of the few who was required to be seeing a doctor regularly, although I never had any real health issues.

In the end, after four weeks of trying to play the system, the counselors realized I was a danger to myself as I was not making any real progress with my weight, nor was I making any progress at eating the foods I was supposed to be eating. They felt like I was the most at-risk health wise (BMI in the 15 range) and realized they were way in over their heads. They referred me to residential and said if I didn’t go, they’d have to discharge me (at that point, my dietician refused to see me anymore because I refused to follow her food plan). So after thinking long and hard about what I wanted to do, that very next week my father, husband (boyfriend at the time), and I made the nine hour drive down to Southern California where I stayed at Rader Programs for six weeks.

It was there they caught that I had ketones in my urine (although that was brief) and where I developed pancreatitis and liver abnormalities due to the refeeding process. I also was diagnosed with osteopenia. They were baffled as to why I hadn’t been losing my hair, why I was still getting my period, and why I hadn’t developed lanugo. It was there I finally recognized alternate theories as to why I developed an eating disorder other than just thinking I was fat, and it was there I was able to finally connect with human beings who were going through the exact same things I was.

I went back to the outpatient treatment center after I graduated Rader, but in all reality I pretty much just went to go through the motions. By that time I was the ONLY eating disordered person in the program and most of the original people I started with were already gone. I didn’t get much out of the last eight weeks I was there, although I suppose it did keep me in line for a bit.

I’ve had this blog for five years now, and I’ve never really written about any experiences in treatment. I mean, I’ve mentioned it here and there, but there are some STORIES I could tell. I think over the next few days I’m going to share some.

The Odds of Becoming an Alcoholic

Growing up I was one of the biggest goody-goodies you would have ever met. I was firmly against anything that was “bad,” vowing never to drink alcohol, do drugs, smoke, have sex (until marriage), or break the law. I always did my homework on time, I never went to parties, I never got into trouble with friends, I never experimented with drugs, I never even kissed a boy until I was 16, and I even waited until marriage to have sex with my husband (after FOUR years of dating). I don’t know why I was such a prude, but I think it had a lot to do with thinking I was better than everyone else (to the point where my friends would often feel judged around me) and the fear I had of getting in trouble with my mom. From birth, I knew what doing something “bad” would happen if my mom ever found out, and her rages scared me so incredibly bad that I never wanted to do anything that would cause her to get mad at me. So I decided to be the best daughter I possibly could, and it turned me into a judgmental human being who lived on top of her pedestal. If you drank underage or had sex or went to parties, I had no respect for you and saw you as a second-class human being. It was a horrible way to live; especially because it really alienated me from a lot of friends. The irony is I became a drug counselor and deal with people who I would have judged in high school on a daily basis; the good thing now is I treat them all equally now. I’m no better or worse than they are, and what they do doesn’t merit judgment from me, regardless if they are a homeless dope fiend who shoots heroin or the a rich CEO who does coke and sleeps with prostitutes.

Anyway — my first drink was about two years ago; a glass of wine on Valentine’s Day with my husband. I had reservations, because I didn’t want to break my “streak” of having never had a drink, but I was curious as to see what it felt like to feel at least buzzed. Needless to say, the drink didn’t really do anything for me. I couldn’t even finish it because the taste of the alcohol was so disgusting. My second drink was some fruity drink my sister-in-law made me at a family function, and that didn’t do anything for me either. I figure if you are going to drink an alcohol drink that tastes like fruit, you may as well just have a fruit drink minus the alcohol, especially if the alcohol isn’t going to do anything for you. Anyway, at that point, because I didn’t want to drink more than one drink, I just figured I would never experience what it felt like to be under the influence of alcohol. I tried again, one last time with my husband, but the alcohol did nothing but make me feel sick.

That changed when I went on a mini-vacation with my husband a few months ago. If you read that past entry, you’ll see that I finally had more than one drink and definitely experienced being buzzed. I wouldn’t say I was drunk, but I definitely felt a sense of elation and relaxation that I had never experienced before, and it made everything BETTER. The sex between me and my husband was probably the most intense it’s been since we’ve been married, all my problems seemed to dissolve away, and the capacity my heart had for feeling unconditional love for my husband was endless. I loved that feeling, and when it started to fade, I was literally disappointed. My husband asked, “Now do you see why people drink?” I told him that I did, and realized how easy it probably was for some people to become alcoholics or addicts.

I haven’t had a drink since then (that was March), and I don’t know when/if I will ever have another drink again. But I can tell you right now that although I don’t think about it daily, there are moments where the thought of drinking excites me. In my eating disorder, I often get excited if my husband and I go somewhere fancy or unusual, because I know there is a great chance I’ll be able to eat new and rich foods, or at least foods I wouldn’t normally allow myself to eat. But this time, alcohol is somehow added to that list, and I get excited thinking of the possibility of drinking. I would never want to get drunk, and I would never want to drink with anyone else but my husband. But I don’t want to be this type of person that expects to drink every time we do something special. It’s enough already to expect unsafe food when we go out; I don’t want to all of a sudden become a fiend for alcohol as well.

Now, I need your perspectives on this. Is what I’m feeling, in terms of alcohol, normal? Like, does everyone want to occasional glass of wine or drink when they go out? In recovery from my eating disorder, numerous counselors have told me to be cautious around any type of mood altering substance, because addiction is addiction, and I could easily cross-addict and become an alcoholic/addict. I believe this to be true, so I often wonder if what I feel is normal or if it’s the addict area of my brain searching for something more. Searching for one more thing to burry down all the crap I don’t want to face.

I will admit that drinking is not my brain’s first response to stress. It’s either bingeing or restricting. But there are those times, after I feel miserable from restricting or shameful after bingeing that my brain says, “Hey, wouldn’t it be nice to just make these feelings go away automatically?” And that’s when I think of drinking.

I suppose I will never know unless I start regularly drinking, but should I even risk becoming the casual drinker? The 12-stepper in me says NO, but the person who wants to stop putting herself on a pedestal screams out YES, IT WILL BE OKAY. Realistically I don’t think I would become a casual drinker, just because I’ve never been one to do that type of thing. I can’t say though that I wouldn’t drink again if my husband and I went on another mini-vacation. And what worries me is the more I experience good things with alcohol, the more I’ll want it. I guess it’s just something I will have to be cautious with, but I really don’t want to become a person who depends and expects alcohol when they go somewhere. I want the trip to be about the trip, and not about the fattening foods I’m going to eat or the alcohol I’m going to drink. I want to be excited about experiencing new things, NOT about hitting up a new cupcake shop or bar.

A lot of people feel there’s no problem in making yourself feel better every once in a while. But I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to have to make things “better.” I want to experience life for what it is, without having to enhance the situation with a stimulant. But then again, don’t I do that with food? Don’t I allow myself to indulge in 1,000 calorie meals at restaurants? Don’t I allow myself to order dessert even after feeling stuffed? Yes. I already DO this with food. Friday nights are SO much better with a bucket of ice cream or a handful of cookies or a box of donuts. I treat food like someone treats alcohol — I’m more excited about what foods I am going to eat and what restaurants we are going to than what activities we are going to do. I can’t believe I just realized this.

Family ED History

They say addiction and other mental illnesses are hereditary. I think back to my family and wonder if any of my family members had an eating disorder.

My mom’s side of the family is Hawaiian, so culturally, food plays a big part in their traditions. My mom had five sisters, and excluding her and the aunt that later became my father’s significant other after my mom’s passing, they were all overweight to obese. My mom, on the other hand, was always very petite, only weighing over 100 pounds once she became pregnant and had children. Both my brother and I had been premature, although that probably had more to do with her Lupus than her size. My mom’s weight varied throughout her lifetime; any weight gain usually had to do with various medications she was on at the time, but when she would get to a point where she thought she was “fat,” she would go on the occasional diet. It did get to a point where she worried me, because once she hit a goal weight of 108, she wanted to continually lose more. I distinctly remember saying, “Mom, I don’t want you to become anorexic.” Weird, given how things turned out. I believe she was still dieting during the time of her death (which was Lupus related, not ED related). My aunt, the one mentioned earlier, has always been extremely underweight and hardly eats. I don’t think she ever had a diagnosable eating disorder, but both her kids were also premature and I’m sure it had to do with her size. I’d say she definitely had disordered eating, and along with that she was always very, very vain. As for my obese aunts, I could argue that anyone with an obesity problem has disordered eating issues, but whether or not they were truly suffering from compulsive overeating is another story. I’ll never know, but it’s something to think about. I will say, though, that all my aunts, regardless if they had EDs or not, all had their own “issues.” They grew up in a very physically and emotionally abusive household; I remember a story my mother told me where she went out with some friends. Her father told her not to buy any food, but she bought a hamburger. He found out and then force fed her multiple hamburgers until she physically could not eat anymore. That’s just one out of the countless stories she told me of abuse. I can see why she did some of the things she did to me, given her childhood.

I could argue my dad is a compulsive overeater. He goes through cycles where he restricts his food and then subsequently overeats; similar to the cycle I’m currently stuck in now. He’s always “on a diet,” and complains how he eats too much. He definitely is an emotional eater, or at least someone who eats out of boredom and loneliness. But then again, what I’ve just described could be any man in America given America’s habits with food and dieting.

As for my oldest half-brother, if anyone in my family were to ever be able to be diagnosed with an eating disorder, it would be him. He is as skinny as a rail, and hardly eats. When he DOES eat, it’s a lot of food, and he often complains how it distends his stomach and makes him “fat.” He does watch what he eats because he thinks he’s fat (at least, his stomach area) and he has been hospitalized for physical problems resulting in stress and malnutrition. He’s also suffered from depression and was put on medication for it. I’ve tried to have a serious conversation about eating disorders with him and his wife, but they both brushed it off as a normal behavior. His wife said, “It does worry me, but he’s going to do what he’s going to do.” This brother is also the only brother who is ballsy enough to call me out on my weight loss. So, again, I don’t think I’ll ever know if he suffers from an actual eating disorder, but the symptoms are surely there.

On one hand, it’s so very easy to dismiss an eating disorder because of society’s view on dieting, weight loss, obesity, and thinness. On the other, it seems like everyone and their mother has a diagnosable eating disorder for the same reasons. It’s either “just a phase” or an “epidemic that must be stopped.” The line between disordered eating and eating disorder is so very much blurred you either don’t think you have a problem when you do, or you think you have a problem when you actually don’t.

Do you guys have any family members who have eating disorders or possible eating disorders?

Eating Disorder Reality Shows

So since I did a post on ED movies, I figured I’d do another post on ED reality shows. It’s going to be a fairly long post, so I’ll try to cut the commentary down to a minimum. I tried to link as many actual episodes as I could so you could watch them, but some only link to clips and/or websites. All episodes/clips either link to the actual show website or youtube.

Starving Secrets with Tracy Gold
This was a short lived series produced by former anorexic and actor Tracy Gold. The show followed the lives of a dozen or so women who suffered with various eating disorders and their subsequent treatment. There was a lot of controversy around this show with critics claiming it promoted eating disorders, tips, and tricks. Gold, who considers herself fully recovered, denied these accusations. In my opinion, the show followed similar suit to Intervention. Just how Intervention shows a heroin addict shooting up in the bathroom, this show showed girls puking, exercising, bingeing, etc. The majority of the women on the show sought help through intensive outpatient. Click here to visit the show’s website.

Addicted to Food
This show premiered on Oprah’s network OWN, and followed a group of eating disorered people and their journey in a residential treatment facility located in Texas. The patients documented were mostly compulsive overeaters. There was one anorectic and one bulimic who abused laxatives. I think the show did a good job showing what it’s like to be in treatment, but I also think the treatment methods used were a little unorthodox. Click here to visit the show’s website and view clips of the show.

What’s Eating You?
This show premiered on the E! network. It also followed along similar lines as Intervention, but it wasn’t as “raw” or “gritty” and the majority of clients sought treatment with a therapist only. If any of you remember Melissa DeHart, the severely anorexic woman who was on Maury a long time ago, she was on the show. Here’s a link to all the episodes:
Episode 1, Episode 2, Episode 3, Episode 4, Episode 5

Freaky Eaters
This aired on TLC. Not really geared to be an “eating disorder” show, however, it does follow the lives of people who are addicted to certain types of foods, like coke, candy, french fries, hamburgers, ice cream, etc. Click here to view the site and watch clips.

THIN
I’m assuming everybody has seen THIN. This is the HBO documentary that followed four girls and their treatment journey at Renfrew in Florida. Although it pretty much mirrored my experience in residential treatment, it was quite depressing given that all four girls eventually relapsed, and one apparently commited suicide. On a brighter note, the main character, Shelly, finally did enter true recovery and is maintaining that lifestyle. Click here to watch the documentary.

MTV’s True Life series:
True Life: I Have an Eating Disorder Click here to watch the full episode.
True Life: I Hate my Face (Body Dysmorphia) Click here to watch the full episode.
True Life: I’m Addicted to Food Click here to watch the full episode.
True Life: I’m Uncomfortable in My New Body Click here to watch the full episode.
True Life: I’m Happy to be Fat Click here to watch the full episode.
True Life: I Have Orthorexia Click here to watch the full episode.
True Life: I’m Obese Click here to watch the full episode.

A&E’s Intervention series:
Amy P. Full episode here. (Anorexia/Bulimia)
Amy W. Full episode here. (Anorexia/Self-Harm)
Kelly (Anorexia)
Annie (Anorexia/Bulimia)
Allison (Anorexia/Self-Harm/Drug Abuse)
Sonia and Julia (Anorexia/Twins)
Salina Watch full episode here. (Bulimia)
Jessie Watch full episode here. (Bulimia)
Caylee (Bulimia)
Asa (Bulimia)
Casie (Bulimia)
Amber (Bulimia)
Randi (Bulimia)
Renee (EDNOS)
Kim Full episode here. (Anorexia/EDNOS)
Marquel Full episode here. (Compulsive Overexerciser/EDNOS/Alcoholic)
Emily (Anorexia/EDNOS)
Josh (Compulsive Overeater)
Nicole (EDNOS)

Let me know if any of the links don’t work or link to the wrong thing. Most links link you to part 1 of whichever show you click. It’s easy to find the other parts once you get to youtube.

Harm Reduction

In the addiction community, there are two types of “recovery.” One is abstinence-based (completely abstaining from all drugs and alcohol) and one is harm-reduced based (drinking or using in moderation, or at least, in a safer environment than one is used to). Coming from a background in 12-Step, I always firmly believed in abstinence only. I never once believed an addict could use in moderation because, in time, they would eventually relapse. I actually still do believe this to an extent, however, not as passionately and vehemently as I used to. I think it’s different for everybody. My husband, a former cocaine addict, went to rehab once and never went back. He’s been clean from drugs for almost 20 years. He doesn’t believe he could ever use cocaine in moderation, hence being clean, however, he has used marijuana and alcohol since getting out of rehab when he was in high school. It didn’t lead him back to cocaine, nor did it turn him into a habitual pot smoker or alcoholic. As for me, I believed I needed to abstain completely from my eating disorder because it was too easy for me to play around with ED behaviors. After all, my husband doesn’t need cocaine to live, but I certainly need food to survive.

With that said, what I’m engaging in right now is harm reduction. I’m not abstaining from eating disorder behaviors, but I’m limiting them in hopes of maintaining my good health and emotional well-being. My ultimate goal is to still lose weight, but I can’t pretend like harm reduction fixes everything. I may not be constantly bingeing or weighing, I may not be constantly isolating or snapping at my husband, but I am still hiding a scale in my pajama drawer and eating almost 1,000 calories below my agreed caloric intake when I said I was beginning recovery again back in November of 2011.

I’m practicing harm reduction, the very same thing I preach to my clients to avoid. Is an alcoholic who moderately drinks really in recovery? Is an OxyContin addict who kicks his habit by visiting a methadone clinic every morning really in recovery? Is a heroin addict who goes into a clinic that offers clean needles really in recovery? Or are they just masking problems under the fact that they are “managing” their addictions? After all, if our lives really are good, there should be no reason to continue the self-destructive behavior, even if it is in moderation. Is harm reduction just an easy excuse to continue to get high or drunk? And given the fact that addiction is apparently genetically pre-disposed, can someone really use their drug of choice in moderation or will their brains eventually take over and do them in again?

I don’t believe what I’m doing is right. I believe to be truly free and happy, I must surrender all ED behaviors. But at the same time, I can see myself living the rest of my life like this. As long as I maintained my weight (Goal of 14 range BMI), ate enough to limit binges, felt relatively normal and happy, and no longer had compulsions, why not? Logically I know why not, but that’s what my brains says every day when I’m questioning when this will all end. Will I die from this? Will I survive until I’m 80 like this? Will I ever feel as connected to OA like I did a year ago? Will I ever go back? Will I ever eat normally again? Will I ever go into treatment? For today I’m practicing harm reduction, and it’s something I don’t necessarily agree with. How is that even possible? I guess as long as it keeps my eating disorder alive, I will agree to anything.

EDIT: Also want to add in that this whole relapse started with a safe, healthy diet. I lost weight slowly and safely. So in my own way, I was “using in moderation” and eventually relapsed. Harm reduction, as nice as it sounds, just doesn’t work, at least for me. As I said before, I think to be truly “free,” I need to abstain completely, or as best as I can.

Compulsive Overeater VS. Anorectic

When I started this blog, it began as a tool of my recovery as I continued my journey with Overeaters Anonymous, a 12-step program for eating disorders. If you are a new reader, and you go back to the beginning of this blog, you’ll see that the entries I wrote in 2007 were very different than the ones I write now.

I don’t talk much about the program anymore, even though I do occasionally post 12-step work. I feel disconnected from the program, especially now that I am in relapse, but even more so because the majority of people in the meetings are compulsive overeaters. What is strange is that I felt such at home with OA and never saw the differences of compulsive overeating and anorexia. I never once thought that the people there were lazy, or fat, or struggling with a problem lesser than mine. I never once thought that maybe, on some level, those who saw me secretly resented me for being underweight and not having issues with food as they did. I never saw those things, because recovery was too important for me to let those things get in the way. If people had issues, those issues were no business of mine, and if I had issues, then I wasn’t following the OA tradition of putting “principles before personalities.”

Now that I am in relapse, I see things totally differently. I don’t like talking about my relapse. I don’t like “complaining” about how hard it is to eat normally. I don’t like saying how I feel like I’m fat. Why? Because I know most of these overweight people who struggle with binge eating disorder are probably offended in some way.

I started the first OA group on facebook and a fellow member said she wished she could shake those who were underweight in order to convince them they weren’t fat. She went on to say how jealous she was of us, and how we had nothing to complain about until we knew what it felt like to be 200 + pounds.

Without going into too much detail and breaking anonymity, I responded by stating that posts like hers are part of the reason why I don’t feel comfortable speaking up about anorexia in an Overeaters Anonymous meeting. She then responded how she understood because she “used to be anorexic” but that it still frustrated her to see underweight people complain about being fat. For an “anorexic” who “understands,” I find it hard to believe she would get frustrated at someone who legitimately felt they were fat. She justified her rant by saying how people like me make her feel like crap because she wishes she could look like us. Last time I checked, how YOU feel is YOUR responsibility. I’m also pretty sure my weight, all 80 whopping pounds of it, does not have the power to make you feel like crap.

I can see how one can get frustrated. I, too, get frustrated when the Abercrombie-wearing, big sunglass-sporting, bleach-blonde, duck-lipped teenager complains about how fat she is when clearly, she knows she isn’t. But there’s a HUGE difference between that type of person and a person who sits in an OA meeting who may be desperate for help and in need of support.

If I could go to Eating Disorders Anonymous or Anorexics and Bulimics Anonymous, I would. But unfortunately, I don’t have the luxury of living in LA or San Francisco where all those meetings are held. So until then, I will continue to attend OA. In the end, we ALL have issues with weight and food regardless if we are underweight and restricting, overweight and bingeing, or a mixture of both. I may not understand what it feels to be overweight. You may not understand what it feels like to be underweight. But regardless of what weight we are, we are all judged in one way or another. Being overweight sucks. But being very underweight isn’t a party either. Please don’t tell me you wish to be like me. An eating disorder is an eating disorder, and regardless of what we look like, we ALL feel like SHIT in the end.

Edit: BRILLIANT! She went on to say how anorectics don’t overeat (as in, AN ANOREXIC WOULD NEVER UNDERSTAND WHAT IT’S LIKE!). I kindly let her know that I binge quite often. Her response? “But you only overeat because if you don’t you will die! I am fat and don’t need to overeat but I do anyway!”

*face palm to the highest degree.*

Truth is a Dirty Word

People don’t like it when we lie and pretend we are something else that we’re not. But when we finally open up and say who we really are, we are chastised for being immoral. We are looked down upon because of our selfish ways or our values or the way we live our lives.

A classic case of damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

I could put on a smile and pretend like my life is all in order. Why shouldn’t I? I could blog about my two-story home, my loving husband, my job,  our gated community with hardly any crime, our great marriage, etc. But then people may get upset because that would be bragging.

Or I could talk about how when I got together with my husband, he wasn’t legally divorced yet and our small, Bible-thumping town just about exiled us out of the county. Or about how when our small, two-bedroom house burned down I was on the verge of going completely insane, cutting up my legs and starving myself to death. But then people would get upset because I was being overly dramatic.

It’s a lose-lose.

My life has both good parts and bad parts, but regardless, it’s no better or worse than anybody else’s. And when you take morals and ethics out of the equation, no matter what I do, as long as I’m not hurting anybody else, it really is what it is. There’s no room for judgement, because at the end of the day, whatever I’ve done has happened and I can’t take it back.

People are so damn curious about eating disorders, and then when they finally read about how they really are, they point fingers and say how selfish we are. They blame us for damaging impressionable young girls who think they are fat. They balk when reading about how we are able to eat a dozen donuts and more in one sitting and then puke it all back up when we’re done. They ask stupid questions, like “You know you are killing yourself, right?” They almost always see it as a choice we are making more than a mental illness that has the highest mortality rate of all mental disorders.

So I have an eating disorder. Does that completely take away my right to dream of having children? Until I actually have children of my own, my thoughts and dreams are just that: thoughts and dreams. We are not our thoughts until we put those thoughts into action. Regardless if we are thinking of having children, thinking of having a one-night stand, thinking of slapping someone upside the face, thinking of downing a whole bottle of pills in order to kill ourselves, our thoughts are not our actions, because thoughts can be changed. So why the judgement? It’s like, what do you want me to do? Magically stop myself from wanting to have children? Let me take my magic wand out of my asshole so I can do that for you.

I work as a substance abuse counselor and 100% of my clients are court-mandated to be in my program. That means 100% of my clients were caught either selling or doing illegal drugs. The courts like to label them all addicts or junkies. The normies of the world like to think of them as second-class human beings. People who know nothing about drugs and drug addiction like to assume anybody who does an illegal drug must be an immoral person. When in truth, the majority of my clients are actually very kind, and some of them are better parents, spouses, or friends than some of my own family and friends.

Do I make bad decisions when I’m active in my eating disorder? Yes. I won’t deny that, and I will accept personal responsibility for the things I choose to do. But I never chose to have an eating disorder. Unfortunately, those were the cards I was dealt, and those are the cards I’ve been playing with for the past ten years. Some years I’ve been able to play fairly well. Other years I’ve been able to get out of the game completely. But others I’ve been drawn in, like the gambling addict who loses all his money and desperately tries to win it all back. In the end we only dig ourselves deeper into debt, or in this case, the never-ending cycle of an eating disorder.

Am I a bad influence to those younger than me or those who “want” anorexia? Possibly. But that’s not my fault. I may be co-dependent, but I’m not THAT co-dependent. It’s not my responsibility to “save” anyone, nor is it my responsibility to censor what I say in case someone stumbles across my blog and chooses to follow in my footsteps. That’s on them, whoever “they” are, and I will NEVER omit something that may be damaging to someone else. I don’t have the power to make anyone do ANYTHING, so I will not be ashamed of what I write in here.

You want to know about eating disorders? Read me or any of the blogs linked in my blogroll. Eating disorders ARE selfish, and I’m sorry for that, but it is what it is. If you can’t handle the truth, then look elsewhere for your reading material.

Stash

When my husband threw out the scale in November, I went out and bought another one and hid it in a drawer at work. I eventually ended up buying an entirely new one and hiding that one in a drawer at home, but I figured I’d keep the old one as a “just in case” scale. So there it has sat, in a plastic Safeway bag, untouched in the bottom drawer of my desk.

Until today.

I walk to my office and the door is wide open; the president of the company has been in setting up my new computer. I set my things down and realize my bottom drawer is slightly open. Immediately I panic and ask myself if my new boss (not the president) has been in yet and if she’s seen the scale. She thinks I’ve been “recovered” for six years now; if she knows I have a scale in my office, I may lose my job.

I open my drawer. I think, “Maybe they didn’t look through this. Maybe they started to open the drawer, realized there was nothing of importance in it, and didn’t close it all the way on accident.”

But then I take the scale out. Not only do I notice it’s facing the wrong direction, but the handles on the bag are neatly tied. I didn’t tie them.

I take it out and stick it in the back of an empty file cabinet.

I look around the office building — my new boss has yet to arrive.

Questions swirl through my head: Will the president tell my boss what he found? Who actually found it? Why did they bother to tie the handles together? What did they think when they realized what it was? Does the president even know I’m a recovering anorectic?

My boss finally arrived and didn’t say anything, so I’m assuming nobody told her they found a scale in my office. So my job is safe…for now. What would I say if she found out? What God awful lie could I concoct as to why a recovering anorectic had a scale hidden in her office like a drug-addict hides his stash?

And that’s how I felt. I felt like a drug-addict who just had someone find his drugs. I felt like I had been doing something highly illegal. I felt exposed and embarrassed.

I should probably get rid of it now.

We’re All Still Alive

I go through my facebook friends and visit the profiles of all the girls I knew from inpatient.On the outside we all look happy, joyous, and free. Some of us got married, a few of us had children. Some of us did neither, although that doesn’t change the fact that if a stranger looked at us all, he or she wouldn’t care to guess all of us ever had eating disorders.

My mouse strays to friends of friends and I see even more girls from back then — all looking healthy and ED free.

I messaged the ones I’m friends with asking if they ever went back — the majority said that although they don’t feel residential helped them much, in the long run most of them found recovery. The common denominator for that was having a child — I guess carrying a baby in your womb and giving birth to your own flesh and blood will change your priorities.

Some just happened to grow out of their eating disorders.

So I ask myself — were any of us really that sick in residential, or are many of us just masking an ED behind our children, our marriages, our jobs, and our lifestyles? I mean, I thought eating disorders had the highest relapse rates? Why are none of them SICK anymore?

That’s one thing I’ll never know, but the one thing I do know is that we are all still alive and ticking. Nobody looks bone-thin, nobody looks hungover, nobody looks overweight, nobody looks hauntingly sad. The competitor in me thinks, “Thank God, nobody is thinner than I am.” The eating disorder in me thinks, “God, did these girls ever really have serious eating disorders? You mean to tell me NONE of these girls are still SUFFERING as I am?”

I know, I know. You don’t have to look like you have an eating disorder to have one. But the pessimist in me asks, “Why hasn’t anybody died yet?”

Maybe some have and I just don’t know about it. But out of all the girls I went into treatment with, only four of us were visually underweight. The 60-pound, 25-year-old woman who had a heart attack is still alive and working as a CRN at the same facility we received treatment from. Still underweight, too. The others? They don’t have facebooks. Who knows if they are doing well or not.

I used to pride myself as one of the only “recovered” ones from treatment. I used to look down on those who failed to continue a treatment/recovery program after they got out. And now look at me. I’m stuck in the same thought processes and behaviors I had before I entered Rader.

And for today, I’m choosing to manage the eating disorder. If I can perform well at my job, perform well in my relationship, perform well with my responsibilities, and manage my health, what is there to feel guilty for?

Oh and…weighing everyday makes me crazy. But not weighing everyday also makes me crazy. I was 79.8 pounds on Saturday morning. This morning I was 81.2. Water weight I’m sure, especially as I don’t think I went over 1000 calories yesterday, but really? If only I could weigh just once a week.

PS: Yesterday I started feeling pain in the left side of my chest. It’s a small spot slightly above my breast. The spot feels like when you have a bruise. It’s only tender when you press on it, although yesterday it also hurt when I would inhale deeply or laugh. It feels more like a chest muscle thing vs. a heart thing, although I have to admit I wouldn’t know what a heart thing even felt like. Thoughts?

Eating Disorder Dynamics

So there are two interesting dynamics going on with my eating disorder :

1.) The fact that I am a substance abuse counselor.

I don’t like telling my clients I am in “recovery” from addiction because then there is this notion that I am a strong person who has the ability to stay “clean and sober.” (Clients do not know I had an eating disorder an assume I am in recovery from drugs or alcohol.) Clients suddenly look up to me which makes it ten times harder to make any mistakes. It’s almost as if I can’t be human or else they will use that against me in order to fuel their own addictions — as in, “If YOU can’t be perfect, how am I supposed to be?” It’s the same when students balk when they see their teachers in a bar or when patients see their doctor’s smoking. Nobody likes a hypocrite, am I right?

I also don’t like telling people in the 12-step community that I am a substance abuse counselor. Similar to my clients, if the 12-step community knows I am a counselor and that I have relapsed, I’m afraid they will think, “You’re a counselor, shouldn’t you KNOW better?” or “How are you supposed to help all those people when you can’t even help yourself?”

So there lies the interesting dynamic — an addict who is an addiction counselor. How does that even work? It doesn’t work very well unless the recovery is strong.

2.) The fact that I want a baby.

A big part of my eating disorder is about staying child-like and young. It’s about not having to grow up and become a woman. And yet one of my biggest wishes is to get pregnant. And yet it’s never going to happen with my eating disorder. Someone my size probably wouldn’t be able to carry a baby to term (if I could even get pregnant at this weight). And let’s say I do get pregnant — getting pregnant means “getting fat.” The one thing I want most will make me the one thing I want least — fat. Everything about getting pregnant is the direct opposite of everything my eating disorder brings to the table: Getting pregnant and having a child is about womanhood, responsibility, growing up, eating right, caring for someone else other than yourself. Having an eating disorder is about staying child-like, being afraid to grow up, not eating at all, and being completely selfish.

And there you have it.