don't let me into this year with an empty heart

it's hard for me to believe that it's 2009, that time has managed to pass so quickly yet so slowly. it's been almost 6 months since i left renfrew, and my life has fluctuated up and down since my departure. when i left i was hopeful, scared but hopeful. i crashed in september and didn't climb out of my hole until late november. to this day i long to crash again. to be sick, to be good at being sick. but i can't be. there's so much that relies on me not being sick.
i look at myself everday and think that i am a failure. that i was no good at being ill yet no good at being well. i look at each of my "urges" as a weakness, each of my slips as a blessing yet a let down. i am conflicted and grateful that i don't own a full length mirror. i try to remind myself that i am so proud of the women i talk to everyday for pushing through, for fighting even when they don't want to fight anymore. i would never call them failures. i would never judge them because of their lapses, and i am lucky enough to have them, girls that would never judge me. girls who express faith in me.
with february comes "love your body month". a celebration of women and men who have defeated their eating disorders, a memorium for all those who have suffered and died. some days i wish that i could celebrate the month and be proud of who i am and what i have done. other days i find myself thinking that life would be easier if i let it all go.
regardless, i hope that this month gives the girls i love faith in themselves. it is an inspiration to hear from women who have overcome their eating disorders. i pray that each of you can use this month to find something wonderful in your and that you find the strength to hold on to it for dear life. this can be a dear life.

questions

July 10th

"Today, for the first time in my life, I actually watched the clock. I just sat and watched it, on and off for 30 minutes. It was kind of grounding. I could tap my toes with each second. no time could slip by unnoticed"

i think i mentioned before that i kept a journal at renfrew. i wrote everyday, not as much as i could/should have, but i didn't want to waste any knowledge i could gain about myself. i tend to write when i'm unhappy which is why my current journal only contains sporadic self-deprecating tidbits of my day to day life. but i tried to write about everything.

i remember that hour pretty well. i was in the upstairs living room (a place that way easy to have to yourself) waiting to see dr rosenburg (see previous entry). it was during those slow afternoon hours before dinner, those 3 hours that are too long for comforting rest and too short for sleep. so i sat there. i challenged myself. i haven't been able to focus for the longest time. i brought at least 10 books to renfrew with me and managed to read less than a dozen pages. i wanted to prove to myself that i have some control especially since i was in a place that was taking away the coping mechanisms i've relied upon for years. as i sat there tapping my toes, my eyes would occasionally wander. i figuratively smacked myself and refocused. don't let it slip away. you've let years slip away. it's kind of a surreal feeling, the ability to capture time. as i tried to own life, i found myself grounded yet lifted. i knew that this was the present, that i was not stuck in yesterday or yesteryear. i was not anticipating the horror that could be that evening or the next day, i was where i should be... but i was not living. i was staring at a clock. pulsing with each tick. accomplishing nothing. being the nobody i've allowed myself to become.

i want to learn how to live. i hate being so trite, but i don't know how to better explain it. i get caught in the past, frozen in bad memories or dreams, distracted by shortcomings and then fast forward to the pathetic tragedy that could be my future. how do i move past my self-loathing and destruction?

i ask a lot of questions, but i think it's because i want to conjure up all the mysteries that are my life.

Dr. Rosenberg

July 11th -

"Do you Know the Bible?"
to some extent
"Do you know the chapter where Abraham is asked to sacrifice his son
Isaac?"
i do
"I think that is the worst chapter ever written"

She may be one of the most interesting people I've ever met... with her "just tell me the bad things" kind of attitude in a room filled with "stupid chickens", but sitting in her "chicken" filled office gave me time to think. The appointments were short but her words were poignant. I guess those words made me think. She's one of those people who will admit that she's not necessarily the happiest, but that she gets by by telling herself that things will be okay. That has never been my forte. Of course things will be okay, but that doesn't make them better now. Maybe I'm demanding too much of myself, too much of life.
In terms of the bible story, I guess I'm all three of them. God. Abraham. Isaac. I'm telling myself that I need to sacrifice who I am. And why? To make myself a better person? To make my life more manageable? To make the world a better place? That can' be it. So what are my motivations and why am I sacrificing myself? And why would I want to become part of the worst chapter... ever?

and in the morning....

mfg:
wow, how weird is it to go back to the only place that is actually associated with your "recovery". i have to say that my journey back wasn't exactly what one would have desired. i threw up most of the way and ended up spending a few hours cold and lonely in chestnut hill. really that part was pretty terrible and left more than one person concerned for my safety.
mfg itself was good. short (we were late). it's very different to be there from an "outsider's" perspective (ie not knowing all the community drama and such). it was good to see people though while at the same time hard to see everyone having such a hard time. i really do wonder how recovery works. some people try so goddamn hard and life still keeps kicking them in the ass. i just want to make it better
after mfg we snuck down to the pink house and saw annette and fran, which was wonderful. they're the kind of positive people who make me feel like a healthy life is a achievable. there were so many other people i wish i could have seen, but for now this will have to do.

the more recent future:
i'm sick. tomorrow i'm going to see i gi doc because i've been throwing up for such a long time. i'm nervous - partially because i've already been stuck with enough needles and really i don't want to be probed and who knows what else and partially because i keep thinking about the commitments i need to make to myself. yeah odds are, i'm fine. but what if i'm really not that well off? what if i get one of those if you don't give up your eating disorder symptoms you're going to kill yourself ultimatums? am i that capable?

right now i feel too out of it to write anything coherent.

...

i'm so excited to go to mfg tomorrow at renfrew. i miss everyone so much, sometimes i feel silly that i'm so attached after such a short period of time, but i guess spending every minute together and actually "pouring your heart out" understandably leads to attachment.
i keep having dreams about renfrew. about being sent back, about needing to be sent back, about never moving past the first floor, about not finishing college because of all the stupid shit i do to myself. how can it really be worth that much?
sometimes i wish i could've had more time there.... but i wonder if it would have made any difference. i really do believe that this is a call i have to make myself.
it really is true that i do this all to myself. i just wonder when i became so intent on destroying myself

you can use my skin to bury secrets in

i wish i could express how much i miss everyone. i'm going to an mfg on friday the 17th and i can't wait to see whoever i can. i'm really sad that tara won't be there. i know that a month may seem like a short time to form such a strong connection, but i felt like she was the only person there who kept me grounded and she asked the questions that no one else (including my therapist) would ask.
i'm sad that the girls who have gone back are having such a hard time, and everyday a pray that they and all the girls i grew to love are holding on. i haven't prayed in years, partially because i felt like my life wasn't worth praying for and also because it's easy to lose faith when things seem so terrible. i really don't know where my faith lies, but i do know that i believe there has to be something out there.
i'm so scared of not getting better and even more scared of getting better. i don't know how to live otherwise. i feel like i have to give up one thing or another, that i can't do both at the same time. but right now, i feel like i'm holding onto everything for dear life.
how dear is life?

the cranberry juice here just isn't the same

Two and a half weeks.
It's really hard for me to hear about these girls that I really care about struggling. I definitely want to hear it if it's true, it just makes me so sad. It's interesting how so many of us have a hard time dealing with other people being in pain, but we (especially I) put ourselves through pain needlessly.
I wish I knew the things to say to help. I know that I can't "fix" people, but I've always been someone who just wants other people to be happy. Some of my earliest memories are of praying for other people to be healthier and happier. On my birthdays, I would wish for my little brother to have a happy childhood, and at a really young age I remember asking God to kill me instead of my dogs sick puppies. I didn't want to die, I just hated to see the pain they were going through. Visiting my grandfather in the hospital was really hard on me, and I do feel guilty for not seeing him more. It seems that sometimes my longing for others to be well can end up making me feel worse.
There are so many girls I met at Renfrew that it pained me to see having a hard time or crying. I know that often times tears can be a good thing, I just wish that I could do something so that they don't have a reason to cry.
----
I'm looking forward to going to school. I think that the structured meals will be really good for me, because I've definitely had problems sticking to this meal plan. I'm just so tired of food, it's hard to eat when you're never hungry-especially when you have to fix the food for yourself. I really really do want to get through this. I was talking to my therapist about being afraid of having to return to some sort of residential treatment and she pointed out that eating disorders are in some ways like addictions and that for most alcoholics it takes an average of three treatments for them to really recover. I don't want to settle on the fact that I don't have to get better now because the odds aren't really on my side, but I hope that if it comes to be a necessity that I'll be able to look past my pride and realize that it's not a failure. I feel like I'm failing. I feel like I'm rambling.
I'm kind of lonely

breaking down barriers

Third full day away...

I'm trying to set intentions for myself, sort of like the hokey stone welcome in Thursday morning community. First and foremost I intend to stay out of treatment, or perhaps more fittingly I intend to never be in a place where I really need it again. I know that I put my family through hell. They fought so hard for me to stay in treatment and I really could never ask for that again.

On a deeper level, I'm hoping that Renfrew has opened a window for me. In my last art therapy session, we did a piece about hope. My picture (which now lies in the wonderful hands of Leah) is divided by a chain. I was trying to express that I've come to terms with never being one of those solidly happy or content people and that the best I can hope for are some vivid moments -- this realization was come to with much help -- and that I can either turn my depression outward through art and writing and reaching out to people, or I can keep it in like I've done for so long. Thus, I can use the chains to tie myself down or I can use them to symbolize connection with others. My wish is that I will not let the last month go in vain, that I'll keep writing, drawing, and talking.

----

I kept a journal the whole time that I was at Renfrew, numbering the days... writing much more on some than others. I'm not sure what my original intentions were. I was unhappy, writing down my weight from each morning weigh-in and scribbling about how I didn't deserve to be there or how guilty I was feeling. I felt like I didn't belong. The only people I had managed to have conversations with were significantly younger than me and for some reason this concerned me. As time passed, I realized that these were the best women I was going to meet.
I'm so grateful that I got to stay as long as I did. I cried a lot, I laughed a lot, I had my shenanigans, but I also made connections that I've never managed to make before. I have always been one of those fortunate people with great, supportive friends. And by no means am I displacing them, my love remains the same. I guess the thing is, I never imagined that I would want any more. I had enough love, I didn't "deserve" (count how many times you hear that word in treatment) any more. But there are a hand full (or two) of women that I met at this place who weaseled their way into my heart.

let's hang on to what we've got, don't let go girl we've got a lot

42 hours out of treatment. It's hard for me to believe how much I actually miss that place. I was not excited to be a part of the program, but it took all that I had not to cry when I left.
"There ain't no good in our goodbyes..."
It seems as though I'm already letting myself slip, although I haven't skipped any meals. Yesterday I slept in, but in an attempt to hold on to some kind of structure, I spaced out my three meals, eating breakfast at noon, lunch at 4 and dinner at 10:30 (just like those good ol' middle school days). I didn't have my usual snacks, but I have every intention to pick them back up and I spent a good ten minutes in the nutrition isle of CVS picking out a mere six pack of Ensure -- I decided on strawberry... I'm not sure how pleased I am with this decision. Today seems to be a little more on track with breakfast at 10ish.
---
I entered Renfrew at the lowest weight I've ever been. I pushed myself down, thinking that I wasn't small enough for treatment. I was shocked that they even excepted me and in what seemed like a whirlwind of events I was landed in Philadelphia. I was not happy to be there, which over time I learned was quite apparent to the staff. I felt coerced and in all honesty, I wasn't sure that I wanted to "recover".
My first day was terrible. I was asked to wear long sleeved shirts to cover my scars. There I was, supposedly at a place where I was going to take the first steps towards self-compassion and I was already being told to hide myself. It is as if people don't know that there is shame behind self-injury and that even a simple request like that can do damage. Do they not know that I am repulsed, too?
I slept on and off on the Manor House couch between appointments, tours and meals... waiting for insurance to be settled - a long battle that no one really expected. I never imagined that this would be me.
Within the next few days, I learned a few things for myself...

• vitals are done between 4:30 and 6:30
• it is imperative that you use all of your salad dressing
• payphones eat away at phone cards
• when you're stuck in a 100yd bubble, friendship bracelet making is really the only way to spend your time.