From Michele: You know what’s kind of crazy? Years ago, after being inpatient for anorexia, I was told by someone that they just knew I’d be “okay in the end.” And even today I look back wondering why they thought so. I mean, none of us know whether someone is okay or not, despite what they look like. So how did they know I’d be okay?
Today, I’m sharing a story from a girl whom I was inpatient with ten years ago. I remember her back then and if you guys could only see where she has come from, you will see how inspiring this story is. So read about Nicole, and when you are ready, please share a struggle of yours on this page.
Let’s continue to inspire using our stories to make this world a bit kinder than it is.
I have lived with anorexia nervosa for the past fifteen years.
I can remember when it started, how innocent it was at first. Cutting out what I liked to eat most then gradually cutting out everything but the safest of foods (which was limited to bananas, grapes, and fruit cups.)
It was a bleak existence, and the food restriction took a tremendous toll on my body.
I lost my periods, I became weak and it was so difficult to stand, let alone carry the tremendous weight of school books on my back every day. Luckily, my school intervened and I was sent into treatment. I was only 15 and full of rage inside a tiny, weak body.
I rebelled in the hospital; my most memorable moment being when I tried to escape but came back after hiding in the bathroom and fearing how much my chest hurt.
I didn’t want to die. But I didn’t want treatment either.
Nevertheless, I stayed in treatment that first time with no more escape attempts. Little did I know that there were many more hospitalizations to come.
Fast forward to my early twenties. I had by then entered college and left on medical leave because of my eating disorder. And I had multiple hospitalizations under my belt and nothing to speak for it. I was still struggling hard. By 25 I had reached my lowest weight. I had to receive IV iron supplements and had to see a hematologist because I had messed up my body so much my blood was breaking down.
I decided to enter treatment again, on my own terms.
It wasn’t easy. I fought with my treatment team and argued with my family. I hated every moment of refeeding, but it was necessary. After that inpatient stint, I entered the partial program at the hospital I was admitted to. I worked hard at my recovery and was eventually discharged.
I’d like to say that was the last time I was admitted into treatment, but that would be a lie. I’d see the walls of the hospital at least once before I’m typing this today. But the main reason I’m typing today is because of the life I’ve tasted since being discharged a year ago. I can go out to eat and enjoy myself. No lie here, I still feel guilty but I combat those thoughts with how much I’m enjoying life. It’s not the end of the world if you eat more calories per day than usual. It’s just you enjoying life and quite possibly all the things you missed out on. You deserve all the happiness and tastiness the world provides. F*ck the eating disorder and live your life the way you want to. Your size in this world is not as important as you think it is.
Nikki
