The More it Screamed, the More She Screamed Back
A lot of people have an age in mind that they’d like to reach before they die. For me, that age was 16.
Deep in my eating disorder. Ruminating about every meal, every workout. Isolating from everyone in my circle, best friends, teammates, family, even my puppy George. The outgoing, spunky, athletic girl that was once Danielle, was replaced by this malnourished, melancholy version of herself. Infatuated with the sense of control her eating disorder gave her. Sacrificing her health as long as the number went down on the scale. Stuck in an endless state of disassociation. The only time I’d feel actual emotions would be at night while I was lying in bed. My thoughts would spiral from the uncomfortable sensation of what felt like every bone in my body being pressed against my mattress. I’d shake in fear, worried that my heart would give out once I fell asleep. Like a broken record, I’d promise myself come tomorrow I’d stop restricting, but I’d never follow through.
You’re probably wondering how I was able to get myself to a healthy place after being stuck in that mindset for years. Well, if I’m being honest, it took a while to get the ball rolling on my ED recovery. When I was 17, I tucked my tail and agreed to be an inpatient at Mclean Hospital. I’m making it sound like I had a choice in the matter, but I knew that my mom would’ve sectioned me if I didn’t say yes. I had reached the point where I was at a dangerously low weight. Heart-attack territory or worse death.
Flashforward two and a half months later, I was released from Mclean. I unfortunately hated myself even more after experiencing residential and spiraled into another relapse. I turned eighteen not too long after, ghosted all of my doctors, and sneakily flew under the radar for the next two years. Finally, during my sophomore year of college, I took what felt like the most vulnerable initiative of my life. I called up my mom, cried hysterically about how I was just so exhausted from having this eating disorder, and that I was ready to get better forreal this time.
I was admitted to Children’s hospital the next day. The gods clearly weren’t on my side because no beds were available in Massachusetts. I spent a week and a half at Children’s Hospital waiting for a bed to open, and one did… in Colorado. Not surprisingly (since insurance companies have a terrible reputation), MassHealth denied
my request for out-of-state treatment. Essentially, I was left with only one option which ironically is known to have the lowest success rate. Yes that’s right, I decided I was going to go home and finish recovering on my own. And guess what, I did.
I won’t lie and say refeeding at home was the hardest thing I’d ever done because it wasn’t. I knew exactly what to expect due to my time at Mclean (now that was the hardest thing ever). Not to romanticize the recovery process, but recovering at home gave me the freedom to choose my own meals, hang out with friends and family, go to the gym to lift, and attend a partial program at Renfrew in Boston which I surprisingly enjoyed.
I’m not sure whether to give credit to the Leo in me or to my ADHD for treating recovery like it was some kind of challenge that I couldn’t lose. The pride and satisfaction I felt from progressing everyday in my recovery and defying the odds fueled me to keep going. I started talking back to my eating disorder’s voice more too. The more it screamed, the more I screamed back. As the voice became quieter and my body became healthier, I started to experience positive emotions like genuine happiness for the first time in years. I had forgotten how nice a belly laugh felt and I can remember thinking I never want to lose this feeling again.
It’s been almost 7 years since I decided to take that first serious step towards recovery. Candidly, I have had days where the eating disorder has been loud, but there also have been days when it’s nonexistent. On the bad days, I force myself to dig deep and remember how awful I felt during my adolescence and everything I gave up in favor of my eating disorder. Undoubtedly, those core memories will always be the reason behind why I continue to choose recovery.
~ Danielle B.
Story shared with permission