When was the first time I tasted my drug and became so high? When did my urge to numb-out take control of my life? It was not necessarily a specific date that I took my "first hit." It was more like a series of events and lack of control that set me off the deep end. It was not till I hit rock bottom, on more than one occasion, did I begin to taste life.
My drug may not of been cocaine, heroine, alcohol, marijuana and so-forth, but it had a street value that was just as deadly to me. I refer to my drug as "E.D." (eating disorder). ED was leading me into a downward spiral to death. Eventually, my body was deteriorating into a thin, brittle skeleton. Devastatingly, I hit my breaking point that bone-chilling winter.
I remember it like it all happened yesterday, my breaking point. I had just arrived back to Massachusetts from living in California for two years. My friends, family, and people I did not even know were so concerned about my health. But I was more concerned about how "fat" I was too the outside world. My family was seeking so much support and help for me at the time, but I was too numbed-out to even believe there was something wrong. Then one day, in walked my past high-school track coach into my parent's living room. She broke through the wall and instilled hope in my path. She handed me her first completed Boston Marathon race ticket number and said it was mine. It was at that moment that something clicked. I began to cry, I let out a weep, gave her a hug, and let my guard down. I turned to my parents, not knowing what my future held, and accepted their help. I was a frightened, lost soul. I knew something was not right with me. Certainly I had no idea I had an eating disorder at the time. I just believed this was not how I wanted to live my entire life, a lifeless corpse.
Entering the revolving door, I began a three month stay at an hospital in Waltham, MA. I refused to eat and was too sick to not too, so down went the feeding tube. I fought so hard with my treatment providers. I was a very stubborn, lost soul. It was the glimpses of hope that helped keep me fighting for life.
Recovery in the hospital was very scary but it felt like a safe place too. My freedom and independence had been stripped from me, but in turn I was developing a sense of self. I was discovering how to care, love, and respect myself in everyday life. I was beginning to learn about my eating disorder and what it represented in my life. It took a long time to believe that it was not about food but feelings. I was determined to find my true self. I knew there was more to the world than feelings of fatness and thoughts of what I could or could not eat all day. There I was becoming a more determined, strong, developing woman. The illusion of an eating disorder in my brain had started to become real.
As my road to recovery continued, I was not quite ready to face the real world yet. The insurance company felt differently. My benefits were running out and my treatment was going to be cut short. If it was not for my parents, Joe and Judi, I would not be where I am now. I cannot express enough gratitude and thankfulness I have for them now. They fought appeals after appeals for me. They never lost sight in the strong, determined woman that I was trying to develop into. For an additional six months, I continued on my road with recovery at a place called Laurel Hill Inn in Medford, MA. Words could not express how lucky I was to have been part of such an intensive recovery program........
(more to follow but for now have a wonderful day)
-A.N.T.
