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Written by: Momma B
Originally posted: 9/27/2015 I am going to be using blogging as a coping skill today. It has been brought to my attention that I have kind of clammed up since leaving residential. I'm not as open and forthcoming with my treatment team. I'm not all about feelings and trust and asking for help. Oh, you are concerned? You would like to know WHY? **Flash back to the end of June** (We'll just do a quick run-through here so no one gets too bored...)
Seriously, dude. I have never had as much of a connection with a therapist as I had with my case worker in residential who shall remain unnamed. So what is the problem? Why would I NOT want to go make a million more therapist connections? That was AWESOME!!! But, wait? Why do I need a new therapist? Rewind.
None of that counts, because it was a job. I was the patient, she was the case worker. Don't get me wrong - I know very well that she cares about her patients and does what she does because she honestly wants them to thrive in the real world. I myself have been in the exact same position so many times. I don't hold it against her one bit. If she didn't have those boundaries, she would burn out and no one else would get to benefit from that spark she carries around that makes her so undeniably fucking awesome. But excuse me for not wanting to open up to a new therapist right now. I'm still getting over the best one I've ever had in my life and NO I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT HER WITH YOU BECAUSE YOU WILL NEVER BE AS GOOD AS HER SO STOP ASKING. I am fine. _________________________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.randomfrequents.com.
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Written By: Ryan K
Originally Posted: 9/20/2015 Today I move out of the Transitional Living House (TLH) and into an apartment in my old stomping grounds**. Another big transition and I sure do got the feels! I'm nervous, anxious, excited, prematurely nostalgic, motivated, grateful and of course #blessed. Tonight will mark my first night of 100% freedom since the beginning of June when I entered residential treatment. Whoa. That's a long time. Six weeks of resi then two months at TLH ... Not your typical summer. I spent the most anticipated season of the year in confinement to treat an eating disorder. With strangers. And no freedom. Good God almighty, WHY ME? Confinement turned into home, strangers turned into family and I ended up gaining the most freedom in a long time from my eating disorder. Many patients spoke of being unhappy to be stuck here on so many beach days and I would agree, but deep down I was thinking this could possibly be one of the better summers in a while. By being here now, I'm going to have so many more summers to look forward to. **Don't get me wrong; it has most certainly not been all fun and games (there were a lot of games though, not gonna lie, CONTACT WHAT UP?) but the sacrifice and hard work were worth it. It was here I tackled so many challenges I would have never accomplished on my own (ever) (no, seriously). It was here I came to understand so much about myself and my illness. It was here I learned from my many mistakes (note to self, don't get wasted and send your roommate to check in with the counselor). It was here I connected with some of the most amazing people I've ever met. It was here I learned I can face life's unexpected difficulties without hurting myself. It was here that allowed my mom to sleep again. But not sleep here; that's weird. I'm not completely there yet, but I am far from the Kim who almost passed the fuck out on the drive to enter residential. That girl was defeated and scared, but this girl is empowered and hopeful. Most importantly, it was here that I found myself again. I actually felt it. One night in resi I said to myself, "Oh. Hey! Nice to have you back." The darkness following me for so many years was slowly dissipating. Kim is coming back! The real Kim! I remember ringing in the New Year and telling my aunt, "This is going to be a good year." She looked at me curiously and asked, "Why do you say that?" I responded, "I don't know. I just think so." She thought maybe this year I will be in a relationship or win the lottery. No, no, auntie D. Even better. This year I found love for me. To quote Oscar Wilde, "To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance." You could even say I found love in a hopeless place. Rihanna knows what I'm talking about. Yes I realize this is very mushy but the title is from Moulin Rouge, what did you expect?? Ah, crap. Gave it away. FREE HUGS FOR EVERYONE! ______________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com. I was very happy when I got some friendly feedback informing me that some of the blog posts contained numbers and other potentially triggering things that we are trying to keep off of the rest of the site. (Thank you for the heads up!!) Because of this, I am going to be spending the next few days combing through the blogs I have put up here and trying to edit out any of this by replacing the original content with the asterisk symbol "**". You can always see the full, unedited blogs at their original websites if you wish, but as this site was designed to be a place to go where triggers are as minimal as possible, we're just toning it down a little here. So sorry if the mistakes threw anybody off! A lot of content was put up very quickly in the first week and I will be much more careful before I publish large amounts at once from here on out. I hope everyone is having a good week.
Stay focused and don't sweat the small stuff! What was one thing YOU smiled about this morning? Happy Friday! - B Written by: Momma B
Originally posted: 9/12/2015 What. In the hell. Is going on. I haven't blogged in a few weeks. 4 1/2 to be exact. A lot has happened since then. Bear with me as my brain is not functioning at its usual .....?......can't think of the word. Dear god. Well, that is number one on the list to discuss! Here we go!
So, you know. Here I am, not dying after all. (Who knew?) Overly stressed, incredibly anxious, blindly walking forward through this uncharted territory that people call "eating like a normal human being should." Fighting for my life, yadda yadda yadda. A few tip toes back, but mostly strides forward. Props to my rebels who have been with me every step of the way. Thank you so much to all of my friends and family who have continued to shower me with support and kind words and gestures. Nothing goes unnoticed and everything has been greatly appreciated. My family could not do any of this without you. I love you all. _____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.randomfrequents.com. Hello!
Our original idea for this website came from the fact that a few of us had gotten a lot of positive feedback from others when we shared our individual blogs detailing our personal perspectives during different levels of treatment. Some of our older blog entries will be posted on here along with new posts as we churn them out. - The Rebels Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 9/3/2015 In honor of Judge Berman's decision to nullify Tom Brady's ridiculous 4-game suspension, I would like to chat a bit about our beloved QB and how he has helped with my eating disorder. I know what you're thinking. This is too much of a stretch. Kim (going by Kim now, hooray) is pulling way too hard to make Tom Brady somehow relevant to eating disorders. Doesn't really make sense. OH, but it does. In a perfect world, nobody has an eating disorder. In a semiperfect world, if someone MUST have an eating disorder, at least everyone else understands and is supportive and knows exactly how to help. In the real world, nobody knows what the fuck is happening. When I started treatment at Walden back in December, I had quite the dilemma. How are my family members the ones who want me to recover more than anyone else in the world, also the ones who are the most upsetting? For years, they were desperate for me to get help, but were forced to remain helpless as I wallowed in denial. Beginning last year, the patience was almost gone. They were mad.
So. Yeah. Most families want to help. They really do. But because of general lack of education, both families and patients are pretty much in the dark. Exasperated, they would ask, "What do you want us to do? How do we help you? Just tell us and we'll do that!" The answer was I don't fucking know. Eating disorders are like snowflakes, only way uglier. They are all different. Something that may trigger one person may go unnoticed by another. Most of the time, we don't know what upsets us until it happens, which is super fun. When my family pushed me about the eating disorder, I would react strongly. The subject was still VERY sore for me. Like Michael-Phelps-after-the-Olympics sore. Or after drinking and driving. Sorry, low blow. Anyway, I would retort with, "NO, DAD. YOU'RE WRONG. WE'RE NOT SUPPOSED TO DO THAT. THAT'S NOT HOW IT WORKS. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. JUST STOP! PLEASE, JUST STOP! WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT? THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE ANY SENSE!" So here my poor father is trying to help but going about everything completely wrong and pissing me off instead. There was an instance where I yelled back, "That's just WRONG. Whatever, we'll talk about it at the family meeting on Thursday." To which he spitefully responded, "Clearly I'm not helping at all, so maybe I shouldn't even go to the family meeting." I LOST MY SHIT. I yelled, "FINE. YOU DON'T WANT TO HELP ME? I'LL JUST BE SICK FOREVER AND DIE!" I proceeded to openly binge eat. As you can imagine, these episodes rarely ended well. I am not proud of any of this and actually feel slightly embarrassed right now. The ED still had way too much power and I still felt way too much shame, so when questioned, I lashed out in anger. Here's where Tom Brady comes in. I told my family about the code word method. Anytime somebody said something "wrong" or triggering, etc., instead of reacting in frustration and telling everyone they don't know what the hell they're talking about, I would say, "I love Tom Brady." This worked wonderfully. Supports felt like we had some sort of inner circle agreement and wouldn't feel attacked and get defensive. And I wouldn't get all worked up in a tizzy because nobody will ever understand me. Later on when I felt better, I would explain why the situation was stressful and how we could prevent that for next time. Talk about healthy communication! If you're struggling with an ED and your loved ones always say something wrong, try to be compassionate with them. They are almost as lost as you are. So thanks, Tom Brady. Thanks for helping me communicate with my family. I'll see you in Game 1! _________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com. Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 9/1/2015 Promised I wouldn't blog timeline-style often, but feels right. Also, at loss for words. AUGUST 31, 2015 6:15 AM Wake up, get ready for fourth day back at work since June 2. Grateful for case manager's idea of slowly transitioning back on reduced schedule with full-day program following each work day. Few more days then back to full time and starting night IOP. Eep! 6:45 AM Coffee (thank you Trader Joe's cold brew!), breakfast, news and cigarette on front porch. Has become favorite part of day. Slightly louder this AM with Harvard students back, but so fun to terrorize. YA THINK YA BETTA THAN ME? 'CAUSE YA GO TO HAHVAHD? BET YA DAD'S A CEO! THAT WHY YA THINK YA CAN HOG UP THA ENTIYAH SIDEWAHK? HAHVAHD, HUH? I WENT TA HAWGWAHT'S! EVA HEAHD A THAT? 6:50 AM Think about how eventually a Harvard student will probably punch me and I will probably deserve it. 7:30 AM Get ready for work. Dance party hard with roommates. Love them. 7:45 AM Talk to counselor who stopped to check in. They saw a silverfish in basement and talk about how I badassedly killed one in resi. I am a legend of sorts. 8:15 AM Start heading to work. 9:00 AM Seriously comtemplate "coming out" on facebook (avoided facebook since May). Debated for so long, but am I ready? Feels right ... Tomorrow is new month. Almost new season. Also have program for processing. Sick of hiding, sick of secrets, sick of being sick. Sick of feeling "broken." 9:25 AM Decide I am not broken. 11:00 AM After doing some work, start drafting what to say. You know, if I go through with it. 12:15 PM Lunch with good friend from college. Discuss idea. Feeling more comfortable. 1:00 PM Run idea by others. Have support. 3:15 PM Feel good about draft. 4:50 PM Run to meet up with current roommate to see new apt in Central. Read encouraging group chat messages fromamazing friends. 6:00 PM Get home. About to do it. 6:15 PM Panicking a lot. 6:36 PM Posted. Hey y’all! I’m Kim and I’ve had an eating disorder for 12 years. In the last 9 months, I’ve been to two different treatment centers, most recently the Cambridge Eating Disorder Center (first residential care then partial hospitalization and soon stepping down to intensive outpatient). I’m still the same person, just happier and healthier. Having an ED was not my choice, nor is it about vanity. Nobody decides to have an eating disorder just like nobody decides to have diabetes. And unfortunately, no, the 70 million suffering cannot simply “stop.” But what we can ALL do is stop the stigma of mental illness so people no longer have to struggle in solitude, hiding too much shame to seek help. So there you have it! Me in all my glory. Finally raw, unfiltered, exposed. Hope you still wanna be friends, and if not, that's OK too. 6:37 PM Shut off computer. Can't stop shaking. Run outside with roommates. 6:43 PM Feel free as fuck. 6:45 PM Might pass out. 6:47 PM Smoke three cigarettes. 6:50 PM Start a three-person sidewalk dance party in heart of Harvard Square, performing hits like Teach Me How to Dougie and Snap Yo Fingers. For about an hour. 7:00 PM Roommates feel embarassed when passersby stare. Scream, "I JUST TOLD EVERYONE I HAVE AN EATING DISORDER! IF I WANNA BERNIE LEAN ON STRANGERS THEN I'M GONNA BERNIE LEAN ON STRANGERS!" 7:02 PM Start thinking not only will get punched but possibly banned from Cambridge. 7:50 PM Cook dinner. Still freaking out. Still avoiding phone and social media. 8:30 PM Roommate tells me to look. I do. 8:31 PM Crying. Tears of joy. Hmm. Different. 8:32 PM Start getting calls, messages, emails about courage and inspiration. Say what?? 8:34 PM Freak out. Holy shit. Posted my fucking BLOG?? Blog was meant to be anonymous! Ryan! Not Kim! Ryan! SHIT. 8:35 PM Start reviewing blog to make sure shit's kosher. 8:36 PM Shit is not kosher. 8:37 PM Feel a little sick. UGH, wrote was sad about boys?? EMBARRASING! 8:38 PM Contemplate editing posts. 8:40 PM Reality check myself. Kim, how you gonna tell the world you have an eating disorder then modify stuff about dudes?? 8:41 PM Close blog and attempt watching Shutter Island with roommates. 8:50 PM Turn off Shutter Island. We cannot focus (another roommate had big day too). 12:45 AM Can't sleep. SEPTEMBER 1, 2015 7:30 AM Wake up for program. Look forward to processing the milestone in treatment. *** 8:30 PM on August 31 - present Feel overwhelmingly blessed, grateful, loved, supported. In disbelief. So incredibly thankful to all who reached out with encouragement and faith. Slightly uncomfortable, but mostly touched. _________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com. Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 9/2/2015 Throughout this lengthy process of "coming out," reactions have varied. Most fall into the "Yeah, had a feeling, not shocked, more happy you're in treatment" but also some "HOLY SHIT! Really?? I had no idea!" Several years ago, my brother told my aunt he thinks I have an eating disorder. She was our favorite aunt growing up; always caring, compassionate and fun. She would let us eat junk food against my uncle's wishes. Oh, the irony. My aunt did not believe my brother. The night before I went into residential care, we had family over for dinner and prayer. She told me about what happened and how she simply didn't believe it because I'm too smart to have an eating disorder. My cousin was also very surprised, apologizing for not knowing because she's been so busy with her newborn. She knew there were rumors, but discredited the nonsense because I'm too put-together to have an eating disorder. I love both of them dearly, and do not fault them in the least for their disbelief. And honestly, until I was ready to get help within my own self, people's awareness didn't matter at all. What really strikes me about all this is the reason people are shocked is because I am smart and "put-together." The implication is only unintelligent people have eating disorders, probably stemming from the subliminal conviction that it's a choice. Can I let you in on a little secret? I have met some of the most intelligent people I've ever known in ED treatment. I'm talking psychiatric nurses, Marine Corps, oncologists, neurosurgeons (more irony), eating disorder counselors (yup!), teachers with PhDs, business owners, writers, Ivy Leaguers, human rights activists and countless overachieving students mostly at the top of their class. Hmm. Seems to be a flawed theory. Follow-up secret: People are completely capable of being smart AND with mental illness. Say whaaa?! When you hear, "Ugh, that dude is mental," you probably don't think of a capable and competent fellow, do you? (Side note: Calling someone "mental" as an insult is similar to calling someone "gay" as an insult #justsaying) But GUESS WHAT? YOU CAN BE BOTH! *mind explosion* What many of us have in common is our debilitating perfectionism, people pleasing and need for approval and validation. Wanting to be the best at everything we do is a huge contributing factor to developing an eating disorder, and then later is a way to justify the eating disorder. My GPA is awesome, so there can't possibly be anything wrong with me! I have a great job. People with mental illness don't have great jobs, silly! Lies. In treatment, we learn a lot about acceptance. Accepting ourselves for who we truly are, accepting the impossibility of perfection and pleasing all people ever, and accepting that we don't need to resort to drastic measures to cope with difficulty. Getting there is hard, but I truly believe acceptance is the greatest gift you can give, especially to yourself. _________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com. Written by: Ryan K
Originally Posted: 8/26/2015 In my previous post, I talk about some fun ideas I had for fucking with coworkers when explaining why so MIA. I didn't end up using any of these excuses. Know what I did do with a few people, though? Told the truth. Yup! I came back thinking I was nowhere near ready for that, but actually feels OK. And after being in treatment twice in the last nine months, I'm simply tired of dancing around the subject. "I've been in treatment for ... Stuff ... Yeah. You know what I mean, right? No?" This topic is tricky because ultimately, I don't owe anybody here anything. When push comes to shove, these are my coworkers and we have a professional working relationship and that's it. But that's now really how it works, is it? I have been here almost four years, and many people work here their entire careers. It's just that kind of homey place where (most) people are genuinely good and genuinely care about one another. This is all well and good, but makes it tough to keep stuff surface level, especially when someone disappears for three months. Concern arises. I am slowly crawling out of the dark cave of denial. I mentioned before that my friendmate (friend and roommate) spoke publicly on facebook "coming out" with where she has been and what she has struggled with. To her great surprise, hundreds of people reached out in support and compassion. WHOA. I have so much admiration for her courage to be open about her illness. One of the best parts of letting the secret out is taking the power back. No longer is this some big, bad, horribly frightening, terrifying truth that must be kept hidden under several layers of steel in an invisible vault in the Cayman Islands, but it's just ... out there. Look at it, just hanging out. Swinging around. Sorry, made it weird. Nobody chooses to struggle with an eating disorder, nor should anyone be made to feel ashamed. I've had fantasies of being able to stand on a soap box and just be out with it, but I am not ready for that nor do I completely believe it's necessary. For now, I feel good about sharing with those I trust, and if other people speculate, wonder, assume, judge ... that's fine too. Everyone is entitled to their thoughts and opinions, whether good or bad. I can't control what people think. Fortunately, I do get to control whether or not I let their opinions affect me. And I choose ... No. Shit is empowering. The kicker here is the ED fooled me into thinking I was hiding everything so well. Come to find out, many people had concerns but were unsure of what is appropriate to ask a coworker. Now that I'm out of the fog, I can recall many people subtly asking me, and how I would simply deny and forget. "Oh, not to worry, I just had the stomach flu." Sure, the stomach flu is why I'm like this** at 30 years old. Moral of the story is, I am done denying and I am done caring. This illness has been with me for more than a third of my life. These are the cards I've been dealt, and I accept that. Just need to move forward the best way I know how, but that's my struggle and either you're in or you're out. Happy to report, the good ones are in. _________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com. Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 8/18/2015 Pretty sure everyone has some sort of emotional "baggage" that she or he carries with her or him (grammatical correctness is exhausting) wherever she or he ... You get it. If you think about it, isn't baggage just the culmination of past experiences that makes a person who she or he is? (Gah!) I've been thinking about baggage lately because I have started dating again. I've mentioned before that I experienced a loss last year that wasn't a death but a loss nonetheless, and was in fact a loss of the romantical variety. I was emotionally invested in this relationship for many years, so it was a little bit (a lotta bit) of a doozie to handle. Because this wasn't the first time I felt rejected by this person, the feeling of worthlessness was that much more powerful. I was made to believe I'm not good enough, attractive enough, lovable enough, and yes ... Thin enough. He never verbally said anything of this nature, but being abandoned for another girl for the second time was just enough to convince me it was all true. Naturally, the eating disorder thrived on my low self esteem, and ran with it. Nay, marathoned with it. My ED behaviors became unmanageable and spiraled out of control. Certainly I felt hesitant about dating again during this vulnerable time in treatment. In comparing ED treatment to AA (more about this later), the rule is one is not supposed to date or begin a new relationship during recovery. After much thought, I decided it was OK to take the leap. Took me a while to finally branch out of my comfort zone and a big factor was finally accepting and feeling (somewhat) comfortable in my new body. I've also stopped drinking after my roommate and I destroyed property and Christmas, and wanted to test myself in challenging social situations without using anything to help me through except my own charm, humor and wit. I'm happy to report that I am just as capable of holding a great conversation with someone new without using my ED or alcohol to ease me through the anxiety. Despite what happens after these initial meetings, that achievement alone is powerful enough to make these experiences worthy. But what if I end up actually liking one of these chumps? That's where things get complicated. In the past, I have kept my secret stored very deeply under many layers in my brain. There is a spectrum of secrets: Some feel alright to potentially expose, and some (especially this one) are just NO. Never. Never ever ever ever. Since starting treatment, I've learned a huge part of recovery is finally being honest with myself and those I love. If these people accept this reality and want to continue loving and supporting me through this struggle, that's way more awesome than just liking me for my pretend self. If people feel this news is too heavy or difficult to navigate, they turn their backs on me. As heartbreaking as this has been, it's also comforting to know who has always truly been there for me. But what about new people? Yikes. This is a toughie. I've been discussing with a few other girls also trekking through this quick sand, and we all have different perspectives. Some are much more comfortable with being open and honest about what's going on in their lives, being brave enough to post on facebook to let the cat out of the bag. Some are dead set on never letting anyone in one this secret, never ever ever ever. I'm not quite ready to introduce myself as an eating disorder survivor (more like current militant), but the shame and guilt of my illness has definitely minimized. Speaking in general terms, it's hard to figure out when the appropriate time is to tell someone new. After three dates? After a friendship is established? After exclusivity? After two months? There is no right or wrong answer, which is confusing. But more likely than not, the mystery has to present itself eventually. Although my disorder does not define me as a person, it's a huge part of my life and has been for the last decade. Kind of tough to just let that one slip through the cracks. As with people we already know, hopefully our new friends will want to keep us in their lives just the same, and if they don't, we just met them anyway. Although varying throughout the spectrum, everyone has baggage. Everyone. And who said baggage has to be a bad thing? Airlines charge more for travelers to check in their baggage, making this more of a luxury than not. Not saying my ED is a luxury, but for now, it's coming with me wherever I may go. The goal is to eventually fit everything neatly inside a carry-on tucked safely into the overhead bin, but for now, I'll just have to pay that extra $25. _________________________________________________________________ Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com. |
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