Dear New Girl

Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 7/20/2015


To follow up on my previous post, the "community" as we call it is a vital part of treatment, but not one that is actually controlled by the center. Aside from our one-on-one meetings with members of our team (case manager, psychiatrist, nutritionist, diet technician), all of the groups are exactly that ... groups. Residential treatment is extremely patient-collaborative, which can be both good and bad. We've had a core group of about six girls for many weeks and naturally, we've seen each other cry, yell, laugh (a lot, surprisingly), sleep, do 7 AM vitals in all of our glory (we did not wake up like this), (seriously, we did not), snore (apparently I did this loudly during cognitive behavioral therapy, after my first and only meltdown here), struggle, succeed, you name it, we've done it together. The bond is strong, and it doesn't hurt that the girls are legitimately incredible. For several weeks, we did not get a new person which helped foster that connection. In the last few days, we have three new people.

New people are generally the following: anxious, crying, apprehensive, fearful, nervous, sweating, attempting to manage heart palpitations, timid and quiet. In my experience, all existing patients are very welcoming and supportive. At 9:30 PM "wrap up" we go around and usually talk about our high and our low of the day, but new people rarely share on their first night. "My low is ... Being here. My high is ... Can I pass?" Everyone else is encouraging, saying their first days were also tough, but it gets easier. We talk often of creating some sort of insider welcome packet with useful information, but this will be one of those things that is brought up a lot but won't ever get done. Fear not, my friends; as an incumbent residential about to step down to partial hospitalization, I'm about to make like Obama and write a letter to the new girl. Here goes!

Dear New Girl,
You may feel conflicted right now, but you are exactly where you need to be. As a current patient who's only a few days shy of being here a whopping six weeks (the plan was three) and about to pack up and move to the transitional house** (the plan was to go home), I have a few messages for you.

• It's not a kindergarten cult. Listen, shit is gonna get weird. You are going to do things you haven't done since kindergarten, and this includes using a lot of "kid stuff" like glitter, colored pencils, crayons, glue sticks, safety scissors (infuriating), silly putty, all of the above. You are going to hug a lot. I don't know if you're a hugger, but you might want to think about it, 'cause it'll happen. You might start saying weird stuff, like that your eating disorder has a voice that talks to you. Go anywhere else and talk about the voices in your head and you're met with concerned stares. Here, everyone understands. You begin to separate yourself from your eating disorder, and recognize when the ED voice is trying to take over your own. You might even name your eating disorder. I know, this sounds absolutely ridiculous. At least that's what I thought before I started doing it too. You are going to make a placemat with photos of things and people that make you happy, and this will help you get through meals. You might bring affirmation cards with quotes like, "Count your blessings, not your flaws," and "I have the power to say, 'This is NOT how my story will end'" and these will also help through meals. You might paint rocks with the recovery symbol. You might bake "tiles" and write things like "pain" and "anxiety" on them and then smash them with a hammer on the balcony in healthy anger group. You might tie-dye some t-shirts and write "ED** Summer Camp 2015" and wear that with a "hope" necklace and matching string bracelet on an outing to Lush. Like I said, shit is gonna get weird, but go with it. Be as open minded as possible, and take it one day at a time. Scratch that, one moment at a time. Every moment is a new chance, so remember that and don't give up if you fall (you will likely fall, but that's OK).
• To continue from the first bullet ... Struggling does not mean failing. In fact, this is the best place to struggle. I learned this the hard way; both here and generally in real life. For so many years, I didn't want to admit I was struggling with an illness that was taking complete control of my life, because ... Ew. That sounds like weakness to me. Not cute. After my first two days in PHP at another program**, I was PISSED that I finally acknowledged I have a problem but wasn't immediately better. Fun Ryan fact: When I decide to do something, I wanna do it fast, and I wanna do it well. This doesn't work that way. Even in resi when I was hiding food several weeks ago, I was scared that I would be in trouble. I looked at my team as authoritative figures, and those usually scold me when I do something "wrong." Again, doesn't work that way. If anything, when you struggle in residential care, you are gathering a lot of valuable data about what doesn't work for you, and your team can subsequently help you work on how to overcome those challenges for the future.
• It might get worse before it gets better. As mentioned above, I was pretty ticked that my ED didn't immediately disappear. If anything, it was getting stronger. What the shit?? I JUST TOLD YOU, I ADMIT I HAVE A DISORDER. I GET IT; I NEED HELP. NOW I WANT IT TO GO AWAY. NOW! ... But how is it stronger?? Because I was using behaviors to cope with anything remotely difficult (and later on with anything remotely positive), I didn't know how else to deal with negative feelings and emotions. And now the whole point of my hardships is to not use behaviors ... But that's hard, and my body wants to use behaviors when things are hard! Mindf#ck. Our bodies don't like change, especially when they are hardwired to respond to certain things in certain ways. When I felt overwhelmed and discouraged in recovery, my body told me, "Ryan! We know what to do! We have felt this before! Use behaviors! I mean, at this point, it should be second nature!" When I would try to NOT use said behaviors, my body would respond, "Ryan! What the hell! What are you doing?? Why are you coloring instead of slowly killing yourself?" In hindsight, it wasn't my body speaking, but it was the eating disorder speaking. And frankly, the eating disorder can go kick rocks. So yeah, it's a process, but one that I believe will be the most valuable process I will ever undergo.
• You will meet new people that you will feel closer to in a few weeks than you do to those you've known several years. I feel like I have a brand new set of dear friends. Scratch that, sisters. I feel the same way about the women I met at the other treatment center**, who were some of the most supportive of my decision to go in. These women have helped me find myself again, and did that by allowing me to be completely honest with myself and others. For so many years, I was a shell of myself. Unhappy, unhealthy, isolated, miserable. Even worse, I was dishonest, which is a trait not in alignment with my core values. It's tough at first, because it's kind of like, "Hi, nice to meet you, listen to my deepest and darkest secrets that I've been too ashamed to share with even the closest people in my life." Sounds weird, but be open to this. You can see how the process can send you on a fast track to becoming each other's most solid support network.
• Everyone is in a different place in their journey to recovery. Treatment is not all rainbows and butterflies. Some people are closer to the "finish line" (doesn't exist) than others, and there is the possibility of triggering each other. When I first got to resi, I was put on a lower meal plan as a starting point because, er, I wasn't eating much of anything during my springtime relapse (I make it sound so romantical). I figured since I was at an ED treatment center, everyone would understand if I constantly bitched about how full I felt and how my stomach was surely to explode. It wasn't until the weekly anonymous community meeting that I realized everyone has their own meal plan and treatment process, and my complaining could be triggering those who have been there longer and are on higher meal plans. Whoops. I felt terrible. Over the next few weeks, I would come to find that I was trigger by others as well. A girl who has completely different meal options than the standard menu (later found to be due to medical issues) that looks a lot safer than my own dinner. A girl who constantly talks about being in beauty pageants and dance competitions. A girl blotting the oil off her pizza bagel, or wearing a revealing crop top. Some of these should be redirected (a counselor tells them when things are inappropriate), but a lot of things just vary from patient to patient. Try not to compare yourself to others or let anyone get you down. It's much easier said than done, especially when the eating disorder voice is strong, but you can do it. You have the power to focus on your own path and let everything else go. LET IT GO! (Frozen, what up?)
• Your body is going to change. Yeah, this is a tricky one. In partial and IOP, I was certainly eating more than I had been prior to entering treatment, but I wasn't really into the idea of gaining weight. Eh, thanks, but really, no thanks. I went out of my way to put together the safest meals possible. Even when I brought in pizza for a challenge dinner, I used whole wheat dough, reduced fat cheese, organic and sodium free sauce. It was definitely an improvement, but I was still putting in a LOT of work to appease the ED. In one of my first psychotherapy groups in treatment, I told the case manager and group that one of my fears of going back to work is needing to buy new suits, and then people noticing that I've put on weight and concluding that I was in treatment for a ... *gasp* eating disorder! She responded, "So? What if you do have to buy new suits?" So nonchalant about it. No, no, no. Nooooo. I was incredulous. Weeks ago, when I was in my morning AM showers, I would look down and Ed would say, "Ick, yeah, your body is changing, but that's OK! You won't live here forever with people monitoring your every bite. Once we get outta here we can go back to before! OBVIOUSLY we won't become as bad as before, silly! Maybe just exercise more? Cut out snacks? We'll figure it out. I'm here for you." That voice was still strong. One week ago, in the shower, I looked down and I said, "Thank you, body. Thank you for helping me breathe. Thank you for helping me laugh. Thank you for helping me think. Thank you for helping me live. You're not so bad after all." And guess what? I've bought a ton of new clothes. And I love them.
• You are going to eat new foods you haven't had in a while ... And you might even like them. This was also tricky. For the first week, I wrote on my post-meal "mood monitoring" sheet that I was feeling body conscious, full, uncomfortable, but proud that I was able to have several challenge foods. Not so hard to do when practically everything was a challenge. Maybe in the second to third week, I started enjoying the food. What?? No! Food bad! Food evil! I realized that many foods I "didn't like" or "just wasn't into" were actually ... Kind of good. And now that I have been able to have them in a safe environment without doctoring the recipe and playing it off like the real deal, I feel confident that I can have them again in an unstructured environment. Lord knows that if I didn't have these foods with an RC sitting next to me, I never would have. Ever.
• You are doing the absolute best thing you can for yourself. Take it from someone who took over a decade to even admit to herself, never mind others, that she has a problem. Nobody knows! They think I have it all! I'm so good at my job! OK, so my relatives don't really invite me to anything anymore because I always say yes but then flake last minute to hang out with my ED instead, but that's OK? Right? OK, so my friends consider me really unreliable because I'll promise to help in times of need, but then flake last minute to hang out with my ED instead. They'll get over it? Right? Yeah, no. Your eating disorder might fool you into thinking you can carry on this way, and you might actually be able to get by for a while, but that shit is not sustainable.

In sum, take it one day at a time, stay open minded, and just trust you are doing the right thing. Trust your team, trust your loved ones, and most importantly, trust your voice when it isn't manipulated by the eating disorder. Because what you should know above all, is you are worth recovery. I may not know you personally, but I know this much is true.



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Original post can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com.