My Story: part 2

Continuing from my previous post, what happened was I went to my GP and was referred to a psychiatrist who specialised in eating disorders (actually I think he specialised in child psychiatry, but saw a number of ED patients). He had some connection with a clinic which had an inpatient ED program and referred me to the program. And that's how I began my treatment for anorexia. 

At first, I was quite naive about the whole thing and like the majority of society probably, didn't know the seriousness of eating disorders. I thought that I would go into hospital, put some weight on, come out, and be recovered (if only ;) ). The whole inpatient experience was so new and basically a shock to me. Not only in terms of the food (3 meals and 3 snacks a day, WTF!), but also in terms of how unwell some of the other girls were. I remember one time, early in my stay, one of the other inpatients came into my room and asked me if she could use my room sometimes to exercise because she wasn't allowed to and the nurses wouldn't know if she was doing it in my room. I honestly didn't know what to say, I was shocked at the "strange" request as well as the desperation she expressed. In the end I said no, as it was a pretty awkward situation to me. 

Physically, my first inpatient stay wasn't that bad. It almost seemed like going to school and I acted like the good student that I was good at being, did what I was supposed to, which pleased my doctor, the nurses and my parents. 

After my 8-week stay, I came out on the lower end of a healthy weight, and honestly thought I was "fixed". Problem solved. 

I guess it's not as simple as that. I don't really remember too much about the next few year, just bits and pieces. At first, I was probably fine, following the meal plan, almost enjoying the novelty of the experience (I did say I was naive about the whole situation), but then after a few months, eating disorder behaviours started creeping back in and I was admitted again.

This process sort of repeated itself over the next few years. But instead of helping, in a way, it made it worse. A lot of the time, I wonder if I would have been better off doing outpatient treatment from the beginning. Because the more times I went back in, the more ED focused I became. Being surrounded by eating disorders all the time (both in terms of behaviours from some of the other patients and in terms of just therapy revolving around ED) in a way did more harm than good. 

On a side note, during this time, I started uni and did some part time work (including my current supermarket job, which weirdly I have come to enjoy). I did well at my studies, though had to defer several semester in order to go into treatment on a number of occasions. I also considered changing my degree/career path multiple times. I did finish my degree eventually, though it took me twice as long when I finally graduated in 2012. Nevertheless, I'm glad I stuck it out and I am proud of my achievements at university.

Looking back on the years in and out of hospital, there were definitely times where I just wanted it all to end.  I never deliberately attempted to end my life, but I did get worse enough in my anorexia to get close to it. At times, even now, when I'm struggling with both ED and/or depression thoughts, I do wish that I didn't call for help on that one occasion when my anorexia was at its worst. But I know that that would not have been the solution, and if it all ended, there would be no chance of experiencing the good things that life is worth living for. I have had glimpses of these things more recently and hold the hope that recovery will allow me to find enjoyment in the things I do and experience the good and not always good (I'm still realistic ;) ) things that life has to offer.

My Story: part 1