Last Year was Bittersweet

I must say that I've gone through a lot this year and that there has been lots of changes. 2012 was probably the most radical year for me. 

There were bad days, weeks, months - hours filled with obsessing over weight, calories and macros, the negative thoughts, and those wretched rituals. The innumerable amount of days that were ruined because of the thoughts running through my mind nonstop - thoughts about being too ugly, too fat, worthless; you name it. I ruined an incredible amount of relationships, not only with friends but with family members as well, by avoiding them as I completely withdrew myself from society. Nights were spent at home, locked up in my room, secretly partaking in physical activity of whatever form was possible while hiding from the outside world - complete isolation. I was entrenched in my thoughts regarding food - nothing else mattered. My eating disorder was in full force; it controlled me. Numbers and scales dominated everything about me. On a positive note, 2012 is also the year when I decided to recover from anorexia, to slowly gain back both my physical and mental health, as well as forming a great quantity of new friendships.

Let's recapture both the high's and low's of 2012:

• I graduated High School

• I moved back to Vienna, leaving Japan behind me

• I had no social life during senior year and lost contact to almost everyone

• I missed out on a quarter of the school year because I was unable to go to school due to my disorder - I was too worn out

• My family and I tried the Maudsley Approach in regards to battling my anorexia, a Family Based Treatment, with minimal success

• I was admitted to the hospital on August 30 and am still here today

• I was sectioned by law and the government was involved as I refused to stay at a hospital and get help

• I was in the only intense psychiatric station of Austria for two months where they saved my life

• I nearly died

• I was fed over the nasogastric tube as I was unable to consume proper food since all my organs were failing

• I ordered my first proper meal at a restaurant again - funghi pizza, anyone?

• I took on my battle with anorexia and will continue to fight

There must be many more events that qualify for my list, but that's all I can think of at the moment. I will update it whenever I remember an occurence.

Excuse the language, but this disorder can go screw itself. I am scared of what's to come in my ongoing battle, but I also know that it needs to be done. 2012 was bad, but that doesn't mean that 2013 will be. 2013 is a canvas for me to paint however I want. 2013 is my year.

Cabin Fever

Everything was too much today, resulting in me having a good three hour sob and cry of despair session spread out throughout the day, from dusk until dawn. I could've set back and focused on the positives of the day, but I didn't.

• I gained weight from Wednesday - that's good, right?
• Today is the longest night which means that from now on, the days will get longer again.
• So far, the world still hasn't ended.
• I am allowed to go on night leave over the weekend.
• I was able to spend time with my brother.

The list of positives can go on but it wouldn't change me dwelling on having cabin fever.

Because it is the holiday season, many therapy sessions no longer take place; they only start up again the second week of January. This is everything but convenient. For me, these sessions, regardless of what type of therapy was emphasized during the period, were an escape - something that I was able to focus on during the morning and early afternoon until we are allowed to leave the station at 3 pm every day. From today, I can no longer rely on therapy to get me through the day until 3 pm - now I need to find other coping mechanisms and things to do. The problem is that I'm out of ideas as to what I can accomplish.

Being in the hospital since September, I have been quite successful at keeping myself occupied by folding origami, creating friendship bracelets and window colors, blogging and journaling, reading etc. Yet there comes a point when even hobbies become redundant and you are looking for change. Don't get me wrong, I greatly enjoy all the previously mentioned activities, but I need variety.

Through my countless temper tantrums as a result of this 'boredom' - you can call it that - I was able to come up with new interests with the help of my parents. It felt good to get everything off of my chest regarding this cabin fever and the impression that the whole world is collapsing. Together we came up with knitting - perfect for these cold, chilly winter months - learning to play the guitar, and continuing to paint with acrylic colors outside of ergotherapy.

I'm pleased with our ideas, yet am always open to new suggestions. Thoughts anyone?

Station Makeover

With the start of the holiday season, which, for the hospital, means the closing of several of the stations here at the psychatric ward, and the end of the eight week cycle here at the 6B means that a severe change was bound to happen. And it did.

Plenty of friends departed yesterday as they were part of the cycle; the goodbyes that I had to deal with were hard - tears were streaming down my face like a waterfall for one person. The friendships that I formed with them are strong and will continue to be upheld, I will make sure of it. Numbers were exchanged, final words of encouragement were spoken and the tightest hugs were given out.

As 6B is one of the only open stations during the holidays, why I do not know, a long waiting list has already compiled with patients from other stations wanting one of the few remaining spots here. It feels weird to have so many new people all of a sudden. I liked our community before; the closeness that had built between us all. Now, with new faces, new stories - new everything really - that community no longer exists as it has to be built up again, from scratch.

I feel very uneasy and overwhelmed with the whole situation. I wish that our station could have stayed the way it was.

It's All Too Much At Times

Sometimes I can't handle it all -

The weight gain, the thoughts, the remarks from others here, all the appointments, the therapy sessions, the doctor's visits. 

Sometimes I just need a break and I was really, genuinely hoping, praying even, that I would be able to spend just a few days over the holiday season that's just around the corner at home with my loved ones. Yet I also know that the doctor's obviously know what they are doing and that I need the time here. I hate these conflicing concepts, but I'll have to get used to it sooner or later as it is impossible for me to influence the opinion of the doctor's. 

In a way, the hospital is my safe place - my haven that I can return to in tough times or when I feel that I am incapable of eating proper meals outside as I get too anxious, the thoughts are too loud, or whatever the reason is. That's all the positives that I can think of right now; but hey, at least I'm slowly starting to get my head around the situation of having to be in the hospital over Christmas.

Not What I Expected

Excuse the lack of posts lately, I just haven't been feeling too great. Especially after yesterday's doctors visit. I was told that I can't go home for a few days over the holidays; I need to stay here, at the hospital. I thought that I would at least be able to leave for a few days. I'm sick of constantly being in the hospital and living in these surroundings - it's been bugging me a lot because let's face it, I've been stationed here since the end of August - that's almost four months. I simply wanted to spend just a few days at home with my whole family.

I keep telling myself that the doctor's are conscious of their decision and know what is best for me and my recovery. Maybe I'm not ready yet, who knows? Maybe they don't want my progress to be hindered in any way and are trying to protect me from my inner demons like this. What I am allowed to have is several night outings not only from Saturday to Sunday but during the week as well. The therapy will be limited as well, as it is the holiday season soon so most days I would also be able to spend the entire day outside and solely come back here to the station to sleep.

It's not ideal but it'll have to do. I have to start wrapping my head around the idea; I can't keep denying that I will get a longer leave. 

Although it's pretty much all clear as to what I will be allowed to do during the holiday season, I am asking tomorrow at the doctors round what exactly it entails for me. I want to know the specifics so that I can mentally prepare myself better for my stay.

The Art of Doing Nothing

Since coming to the hospital, I have worked a lot on myself - all for the better. In the past few weeks so much has happened both physically and mentally that I could fill several novels with every minor victory and positive aspect of my recovery. 

Tonight I want to highlight and focus on the art of doing nothing; the art of taking a break and how difficult that actually is - for me at least. Ever since coming to the hospital, I have been successfully busying myself every second of every day, mainly creatively, because of all the negative thoughts I have had in regards to my eating disorder as well as all the anxiety that builds up within me everyday. By keeping myself occupied, those thoughts, that stress, that anxiety - all of that - diminishes and slowly fades away into non-existence again; just like a negative dream comes to an end and all of a sudden, everything is peaceful once more.

Yet it isn't normal for someone to be constantly working; to be persistently constructing something through creativity; to be perpetually busy. Everyone takes breaks where they have time to collect themselves, to gather their thoughts and just relax. This is something that  I struggle with immensely as it gives my thoughts free flow and I am never sure what to expect.

For the past few days, my ergotherapist has given me homework - to simply do nothing and 'hang loose', as you can say. Throughout the week, I managed a few short breaks with success, but never for a longer period of time. Tonight was different - with no visitors after 5 pm, I had plenty of time to unwind and gather myself and my thoughts; I was able to relax. 

To my surprise, my thoughts did not turn negative in any way and I was really able to let go and simply do nothing.

First Steps Back Into The Real World

This morning was stressful; nothing but anxiety attacks struck me from the time I was awake at three am. Yes, three am. I was simply too nervous to sleep with too many thoughts occupying my mind: how will my roommates be? how many newcomers is there? will they like me? will I stand out? Things like that.

Well, now I know. After a long, excruciating day of scurried packing in the morning, a frantic station change shortly before lunch, and a long afternoon of trying to get used to the new station gave me some answers.

I'm still completely overwhelmed and shocked by the massive changes. There is so much more independence, which, quite frantically, scares me. As weird and unimaginable as it sounds, I want to go back to the intensive psychiatric station 4C instead of the station here, 6B. I was at ease there; in my element. Maybe it's because I've been there for so long that I've gotten used to the conditions, the people, the helpers, the doctors, etc. That's probably why now that I think of it. Here, everything's new and different - exciting in a way? Yes. But oh-so-terrifying for me as well.

There is no constant supervision of the helpers. If you need something, you go look for them at their office. The mattresses are hard and stale, making my joints and bones ache. Thank goodness I talked to the helpers and now I have a gel-mattress like I did down in 4C. There is also no supervision whilst eating, making it harder for me to finish my plate as I am not being monitored. I know I have to though, to nourish my body as it needs the nutrients to repair itself and I have been successful so far. The people are different, very different. There's many more differences, but that's some of the major ones I can think of at the top of my head.

It's a scene change and environment shock for me, to say the least. But I know that just like with 4C, I will become accustomed to my surroundings and learn to appreciate all the station has to offer to me in terms of therapy and the people that are here. I just need to be patient - everything takes time.

Goodbye Intensive Psychiatric Station, Hello 6B.

This morning I received the best news yet. One of the leading doctor's, my favorite - an added plus - came into the room, straight up to my bed with a big, ginormous grin on his face and said "There's a bed open for you." At first I couldn't register anything. A bed? I have a bed here...But then I remembered the talks I had with him and the other doctor's last week about possibly moving to a different station at the hospital - one that specializes in people with eating disorders - in three or four weeks when one out of the twenty beds opens up. They said three to four weeks; but now, it's tomorrow. It only took six days after our talks.

I can't believe that it's my last night here; feelings of schadenfreude fill the room. It's too early and it's too short notice, I think to myself. But then again, it's good because the station I'm moving is specifically for people with eating disorders and the therapy that is provided there is much more meaningful and helpful there. I just don't want to leave my roommates here, I've become so close with some of them. 

So, enough with the blogging, time to get packing.

Tomorrow I'll be writing from my new room, in the new station, surrounded by new people and new faces. 

Mom's Back, Fever's Gone

Sorry for being MIA these last two days, it's just that the flu had gotten the better of me - just like the villain's sometimes do in Disney Channel Movies, but in the end, the good always triumph. I did nothing but sleep all day; how exciting you all must think, I know I know - my life really couldn't be any more interesting at this point. But at least I was able to outsleep my flu; you could say. 

Through countless sweat seizures during both days and nights, and the many clothes changes that were involved, I was able to get rid of my temperature successfully. Trust me, usually I am all for changing outfits multiple times a day, that's any girls' dream come true; but doing so that many times and in those conditions was anything but enjoyable. The only positive is that my fever is now gone.

Now all that remains is that nasty cold, but that's doable. At least now I can finally move again, and enjoy life just like before that nasty little flu! Tomorrow is the first day that I will go back to having ergotherapy and physiotherapy, so I'm excited about that. I was still too weak today even though my fever was gone.

On another bright note, my mom arrived back from Japan yesterday! She came here straight from the airport, although she had a total jetlag and everything; she came straight here to see me, which shows how much she cares. I love her to death. Her support means the world to me. Having her here makes me so much happier; just knowing that she's close by.

Just a quick shout out to you mom, I love you more than you can imagine. You mean the world to me together with dad and Klemens. 

Back to the roots

In coming here to the AKH, you could say that I started a new chapter in my life; a new beginning. I wouldn't have survived the weekend of September 7 - I know I keep reiterating this fact, but to me it is vital as it is a constant reminder of the horrible state I was in both mentally and physically - had I not come here; hence the new start to life. Since coming here, I have been doing everything in my nature to ensure that I nurse and nourish my body back to health. I am just as eager and anxious as a child who finds a genie in a lamp and is granted three wishes and states them, to cooperate and work with the doctors and nurses because they know what they are doing.

Funnily enough, in starting my life again here, it is almost like a deja vu moment as I began my life as a toddler here as well. Not here in the psychiatric intensive station at the AKH hospital, but at the kindergarten that is here for workers. Back then, my mom worked here and so I, as well as my brother, went to the kindergarten. I vividly remember kindergarten, and all the fun I had, how creative we all were - just like I am now, with my friendship bracelets, origami, window colors, knitting, etc. Creativity and positivity were flooding the room back then, and they are here too - right here, right now. To add to the situation, my nickname in here is 'the baby' as this station is for adults and I am the youngest by a few years as I only turned eighteen in April of this year. So I guess you could say that the baby's growing up. I began my life into childhood here, and now my new life begins here as well. 

It's a fresh start. I succeeded once and this time won't be any different. 

My Blood Count is Finally Stabilizing Itself

Now I know I seldomly comment on my actual wellbeing in regards to health and all the medical terminology. And since I received good news regarding my body today, there is nothing hindering me from letting you all know:

My blood count is finally beginning to stabilize itself.

Now, after two months of intensive care this crucial process has finally begun, just like when a cocoon is on its way to becoming the most beautiful, decadent little butterfly out there. I've been in the hospital for nearly two months now (it will be two months exactly on October 30), and the amount of attention and work that was put into my health, specifically my blood count in this case, is insane - they have gone above and beyond, completely out of reach; just like the basketball hoop is for me when I play. 

My white blood cell count is still too low, but it is beginning to increase. If I remember correctly, I've received three injections of white blood cells into my system because they were so low at times. Additionally I required two blood transfusions because of my low red blood cell count, amongst other things. My blood count was pretty screwed up from everything I put my body through, to say the least. And it has only now, two months into the process of nursing me back to health, started to function properly again - according to the results from the latest blood test; the one that was done this morning. It's crazy to think how long something like this takes. It just comes to show how much damage I put myself through, I can't believe I ever let it get that defective.

Only now is my body able to provide the correct nutrients to start to function on its own. It's a sign that my body is finally starting to heal as well, returning back to normal slowly but steadily. 

First Outing!

Dull, misty and foggy. That's what I remember this morning being like. It reminded me of a graveyard, and all the uneasiness and mystery that comes with one. In a way, it was a perfect halloween setting, which, may I say, I am totally stoked for and is just around the corner! I already know what I'm gonna be, do you? Anyway, the conditions outside were horrid and thus my room was never able to become light and bright - there was no positive vibes coming in from outside. It felt more like positive vibes were leaving, being sucked out into all the remnants. To brighten the room, the helpers brought in an extra therapy light to create the ying and yang that was missing this morning. With this lamp, everything was going full force again and I was on track.

At the daily rounds, I was nervous to say the least, anxiously awaiting what the leading doctor would say today - sitting in my bed trying to collect myself and calm down just like students try to before taking a test. All the frantic worrying was time wasted, as there was nothing but good news today! I am now able to go to the ergotherapy room in a different floor instead of having them come down here to me; enabling me to do a variety more of creative things that are impossible at an intensive psychiatric station.

And the best news to date is that I am now allowed to go outside! Outside. Me. Who would've thought. For now, I am allowed to leave the station for one hour everyday in accompaniment with a visitor.

Since September 7, I have been mainly on bedrest, stuck on my bed (at the beginning it was because I was actually unable to move myself around at all), and for the last three days I have been allowed to walk around in the station. But today marks the day that I left the station for the first time, with my best friend in the world. We walked to starbucks (thank god for the starbucks that's in the main building that we found in no time as we thought we would never even come near it - making us feel like proper detectives who just solved their biggest case: proud and accomplished). I was at starbucks; sitting there with my best friend, just talking, gossiping about anything and everything. Once again, I felt normal. I didn't feel like I was sick, like I had this atrocious illness for just a few splendid moments. And that's all I needed to make today a good day. My best friend and my first outing. 

Rough First Times

Today was uneventful for a for a Monday to say the least. Usually, mondays are the busiest days as it is right after the weekend - all the doctor's need catching up with the helpers; the psychologists are back; physiotherapy starts up again; ergotherapy begins as well. Stressful, to say the least. There is people running around everywhere the whole morning until visiting hours begin at 2 pm. Doctors, nurses, helpers, patients just hustling about one another in the corridor and dodging between each other in the rooms; it reminds me of Shibuya and the crossing, the whole disorder that it entailed - with people walking and crossing the street wherever they pleased.

As I said, at 2 pm it quietens down as visiting hours start. Everything dies down: all the chaos, the stress, the noise level - all of it. It's okay during the day as it is bright out and the sun is still able to radiate through my brightly decorated windows to keep me positive. But it's a whole different story for the evening visiting hours from 5 to 8 pm. It's already dark out; the hospital lights make you dreary and sleepy; and the thoughts get stronger and louder, just like a lion cub does as it grows older.

So far, I've always had someone be here with me for the nightly visiting hours because of those reasons, so that I would be distracted and feel more at home; it also showed that I have support and encouragement from others. But tonight is different. Tonight is the first night that no one came. A dear family friend had planned to come but tragic events came in the way and it didn't turn out the way I wanted it to. The notice I was given was too short notice to find someone else to come, so I had to figure out how to keep myself sane and positive. And so far, I've succeeded.

Today, I have made 30 origami cranes, 3 window color paintings, written a story, read in my book, made a friendship bracelet, etc. I've been occupying myself productively. Looking at the list just now, I realize that everything is something creative. I've come to love being creative and producing things while being here. It's something I hope to keep up with once I am well and healthy again.

I am able to survive tonight, by myself. I can do this. I have come so far - this is no setback for me. I won't let those thoughts get the best of me, I will get the best of them by staying positive and doing everything I possibly can to occupy myself. Starting with a movie, yup, that sounds good.

Distractions

Being in the hospital for such a vast time frame, there is a trend that I see happening, and that is the repetition of certain discussions that I find to be pretty awkward in real life - but in here, they are a daily thing. And very important not to forget. They are as pivotal in our daily communication in here as it is for a baby to cry his guts out for whatever reason. Two important conversations come to mind when I think of this - did you have to go to the bathroom today? (as in did you have to poop); and what are you doing with all your used tissues? Now, I know they seem like odd topics of conversation, but around here, that's normal.

The helper's here ask us daily whether or not we pooped because it is important to note as it shows that your body is functioning properly. And whenever they ask, no matter which helper it is, we always start babbling on about how awkward those type of questions actually are and have a good laugh, just like the big and loud one that Santa Claus does every Christmas Eve when he is out delivering his presents. Like I said, in here, I'm totally fine with answering that, but outside, I would stare the person down, turn around and leave. Just kidding, I'm not that mean. But I wouldn't go around and tell everyone whether or not I pooped.

Writing this makes me think of some people who I always had conversations with regarding this even before the hospital, I hope you know who you are and I miss you all dearly.

The second topic was that of used tissues and handkerchiefs. Since the air conditioning is on 24/7, it gets quite chilly easily and it's almost guaranteed that you receive a cold as a result. Let me just say that there is tissues everywhere in this room you can possibly imagine - there's bins overflowing with them countless times a day, they're on the floor, on our bedside - simply everywhere. But the funniest thing was when one of my dear friends, who has already left and is much better now, did not throw her tissues away after using them. I was shocked, who does that? She hid them behind her pillow because she was convinced to use them again and again; the same tissue. It was hilarious the conversations we had about that looking back now.

I personally think that these types of awkward conversations are the best type of distraction because they enable you to laugh, be witty and think outside the box. They make you forget your worries and you just sit there, join in and forget about the happenings of the real world for a blink of an eye. And that's something I love.