Relief

Although the approach I tried to take towards the ultimatum that I was presented with this time as opposed to last was a lot better, it did still cause me a lot of stress. The approach was healthier, yes. But I still struggled in finding a balance between enough food and too much.

Regardless; everything worked out! I gained enough weight so I am able to spend the night at home. I am able to enjoy myself tonight. Tonight will be celebrated. Tomorrow I will write a long post about how last year was for me and the goals that I have for next - you'll all have to wait and see.

I wish everyone a HAPPY NEW YEAR! May all your wishes and goals come true. For myself, I only have one goal for the upcoming year: to gain my life back one step at a time and to ultimately be happy, because if I can achieve that, it means that everything else will have fallen into place.

Uncertain

Uncertainty is definitely the word of the day. I'm uneasy and I don't like it; it agitates me, I get anxious and then I'm incapable of being myself as my whole thought process revolves around this sense of uneasiness regarding my stay here at the hospital.

I had a plan concerning the next two to three months of my life. I thought that I would be dismissed next Wednesday, December 19, along with half of the station, so that I could spend the holidays at home with my family - with my loved ones - and then return at the beginning of January for another few weeks before fully separating from the hospital again.

Yet after the talk I had today with my assigned doctor and mom, everything is out in the open. The doctor said that she didn't foresee this 'break' you could call it for my stay here. She believes that it would be detrimental and only hinder my progress. My mom, on the other hand, has mixed feelings - she isn't sure herself. With reference to my short 'break', my doctor reasoned that I could maybe leave for a few days over Christmas - three or so - and then return; if that is at all possible. Either way, what I can definitely have during the holidays if I stay in the hospital is daily outings from dusk till dawn - or longer, because it gets dark so early, haha, that I just have to return before night time draws upon us. 

We had a very long, deep talk; almost an hour - which, in my opinion, is an extremely tedious time frame for just one issue. We did not arrive at any conclusions, leaving me with this feeling of uncertainty that I dread. I understand her reasoning and the points that she made, yet it is difficult to completely switch my thoughts regarding the subject in such a quick interval as I had wholeheartedly believed that I would be spending the holidays at home, and not in the hospital. It's hard and I don't know what to believe anymore; I am torn between two extremes, in a way.

Tomorrow this will be discussed further with the head doctor, my assigned doctor and myself. I'm scared of the outcome; scared of the unknown. Hopefully I won't be too disappointed with the end result. We'll see.

Doctor's Approval - Thumbs Up

Today is friday. 
Friday is one of my weigh-in days. 
Friday is the day where the doctor's round determines whether I get night-leave over the weekend.
Friday is a day that scares me - the fear of not knowing if I gained weight or not as well as the fear of possibly not receiving night-leave.
Friday is a day of happiness.

Friday to me symbolizes a lot of things, as listed above. Today was an excellent Friday. 

At the doctor's round, I was informed that I had gained 700 grams from last Friday - I couldn't be happier. Like one of my friends told me, gaining weight is gaining health, gaining life, gaining freedom, gaining happiness and so much more. I felt like a child at christmas when it stands in front of its huge pile of presents and is overcome with joy, glee and excitement. That big grin on that child's face is exactly what I looked like as well upon hearing those news. The doctor's are all proud of me, of how far I've come. Today, I got the thumbs up from the head doctor here and he said that I should simply keep doing what I'm doing - which is trying my hardest to become healthy again.

I can do this.

I got the thumbs up! That says it all.

First Night at Home Since August

Last weekend, I was given the option of going on night-leave and so I, credulous me, thought that it would be no different this time - that the choice of going on night-leave would be there. Well, I was wrong. This week was eventful to say the least. From the station lockdown on Wednesday to the consumption of both additional eadible calories and liquid calories on top of my meal plan and my first real dining out experience for the past 1.5 years, it's safe to say that a lot has happened with regards to my recovery in the past few days.

On Friday, during the doctor's round, the head doctor presented his case regarding his decision not to give me the option of night-leave and my world shattered into a million little pieces, just like a mirror does when it is dropped. Then again, broken pieces of glass are supposed to give you luck - just a thought. He wanted to give me two day passes that are valid for the entire day, which means that I had the possibility to eat lunch outside in a restaurant or at home on both Saturday and Sunday. His reason behind this, and I quote, "we do not want to rush into anything like last time and take on too much at once." 

Anger-ridden me, because of the situation and his belief, started to argue with him. For 10 minutes I sat there and pleaded my case, trying to successfully convince him and the rest of the team that night-leave would be good for me. With the day passes, I would have two meals in total that wouldn't be at the hospital; I used that as my main point. Thankfully, we came to a consensus - that I would be allowed to go home on Saturday after lunch as long as I returned for lunch on Sunday; which also comes down to having two meals outside. I was overjoyed and full of excitement and my mood altered immediately to a much healthier state.

...I just woke up from my first night at home of sleeping in my bed, with my sheets, in my room. Might I just say that I haven't slept this good since going to the hospital at the end of August - this night was pure bliss.

An amazing good night's sleep after an extraordinary afternoon and evening at home was simply beyond my wildest expectations of what would occur. Yesterday afternoon was spent with my mom and together with her, I organized my room and tried to tidy up my closet - which we achieved. The night was spent with my best friend, who came to look at our newly furnished and bought apartment, and we had a lovely time together - catching up and watching movies.

Having gone on night-leave was definitely the right option for me, as it has given me the incentive to try even harder in terms of my recovery because I want to lead a normal life again. And having a taste of that for the first time was, like I said, beyond my wildest expectations.

Additional Liquid Calories? Check.

As I mentioned in this post, consuming anything that isn't in my meal plan, whether it be a quick nibble at something or a drink that isn't tea or water, is a fear of mine. It is still an irrational fear of mine that I will gain x pounds because of one small extra add-on.

In the link above, I conquered additional eadible calories, and tonight I successfully gulped down extra calories that weren't incorporated in my three daily supplementary drinks.

Tonight in the afternoon, I went to the closest Christkindlmarkt - a traditional christmas market - with friends from the neighboring station. There, with the support of them, and the joyous and jolly spirit of the surroundings - all that christmas charm - I was able to have another major recovery win. Like yesterday, where I was surrounded by people I care for, I was able to enjoy those liquid calories in the form of a Kinderpunsch, which is non-alcoholic glögg. 

No second thoughts; no negative behaviors; nothing out of the ordinary. It was all completely normal, and that's what I love. I'm slowly becoming myself again and am able to deal with issues besides calories and food.

Italian, Anyone?

For the last 1.5 years, I have not ordered a proper meal at a restaurant.

For the last 1.5 years, I have always stuck to ordering soups or the lowest calorie options when dining out.

For the last 1.5 years, I have dreaded restaurants - all the people and social stress, the overwhelming array of meals and trying to decipher which one is safest to consume.

For the last 1.5 years, I have not been myself when being at a restaurant as my thoughts simply revolved solely around the meal.

All that changed tonight.

I went to dinner being myself for the first time in god knows how long. I met up with two of my best friends at 6 pm at my favorite restaurant in Vienna, which coincidentally, is an Italian restaurant that belongs to my great cousin. The food there is to die for and I had always loved going there; so I thought, why not start there? And so it was.

Looking at the menu, I instantly knew I wanted a pizza. I ordered a pizza funghi and didn't have second thoughts. I knew there'd be a lot of cheese on it and that the pizza would be made from white flour and not whole wheat flour, but did that stop me from eating the whole lot (except for the crust, because I've never been a fan of that)? No. That's right, I ate the entire pizza.

While elegantly dining out and enjoying our food, I did not second guess myself at all. I held normal, everyday conversations with my friends and there was no time for negative thoughts.  It was amazing; the whole experience.

And to finish off this amazing blog post, might I just say that the pizza was delicious and exceeded my expectations. I'm so proud of what I've achieved today.

Gaining Independence

Although I notified the doctor's yesterday during their visit that I would not be going on night-leave, I had the option today as a letter was prepared for me to allow me to go on leave as well as all my medication, including my caloric drink supplements.

I told the nurses this morning that I would not be going on night-leave, but they gave me all my meds and the supplement drinks anyway and said that I was fully responsible regarding my health both today and tomorrow.

It was up to me to turn up to the main meals, that I said I would eat here at the station as well as take my medication at the appropriate times while also making sure that I would take my three supplement drinks. Everything is up to me over the weekend although I am not going on night-leave.

Although I was gone in the afternoon with my mom and my best friend, visiting a 'Christkindlmarkt' to soak up some holiday spirit, I managed to drink my supplement drink in public; amongst other people. It's a huge fear of mine, being judged by others, and being able to simply consume my drink amongst a crowd was remarkable. It was so hard to overcome this irrational fear, and I was shaking throughout the process as I was so taken by the people around me. But I managed to drink everything, and that's what counts.

I'm so proud of myself today, of managing everything by myself. I enjoyed today so far. I'm learning how to become independent again - in small steps.

It's All Going Uphill

Today has been a day of laughter, of rejoice, of joy, of happiness. I woke up feeling great after a good nights sleep and my mood hasn't deteriorated in the slightest. On the contrary, it's only gotten better.

As today is friday, it was another weigh-in morning. Only this time, I didn't dread it. I was pleased to see that the number had gone up again. I couldn't hold this excitement in and keep this important piece of information to myself, so I immediately called my mom and told her the great news.

At the doctor's round, there was nothing but positive news as well. This weekend, I had received the permission to go on night-leave from Saturday to Sunday because my weight has been increasing progressively for the past couple of days with no setbacks. I, however, after having been on lockdown in the hospital the last weekend and not being able to leave the premises this week, I thought that night-leave would be too much for me right now. And that's what I told the doctor's. We came to an agreement that I am able to leave the premises in accompaniment both on Saturday and Sunday throughout the day as long as I am there for the three main meals. 

I think that that's a good stepping stone and that it's important that I don't rush into things and take on too much at once. Night-leave is something that I have in sight for the following weekend if everything goes as planned. 

Good News!

I awaited today so anxiously since Monday. This morning, upon waking up, I was tense all over because of what lay ahead - the weigh-in that would determine everything (at least that's what it felt like). Weigh-ins are always Monday, Wednesday and Friday - which are, coincidentally, the days I dread the most. Seeing that number on the scale go either up, down or stay the same is always a terrifying process. I never know how to react.

But this time, this time I was really hoping that I had gained enough from Monday so that I could leave the station by myself again and walk around the premises without accompaniment.

Although I gained weight over the weekend, the doctor's believed that it was still for the best to have me on lockdown at the station if I wasn't with someone else. They promised me that if I gained x grams by Wednesday, that that would change. So since Monday, thoughts regarding today's weigh-in were circulating in my brain non-stop; non-stop I tell you. After every meal, I thought to myself: were those enough calories to help me reach my goal? 

I'm currently incapable of describing just how tense I've been feeling these past two days.

So anyway, stepping onto the scale this morning was different than the previous times. Carefully placing first my right, and then my left foot onto the scale, I waited. And waited. Waited for what seemed like hours, eons even. Then, the number appeared and a huge sense of relief spread all over my body. I was able to feel again. I gained enough.

For now, it feels like I have a sense of freedom back; that I'm not tied down to the station or other people anymore. I have a bit of breathing space again. And I love that.

Hopefully the setback last week won't hinder my recovery any further. It's all upwards from here.

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. 

Go Hard or Go Home

Everyday there seems to be some sort of information that finds its way - oozing slowly across the horizon until reaching the northern star - being documented, manipulated as knowledge in which to simultaneously create a storyline too, as well as recorded in dire times. Yet I find that the time is never desperate enough, and that there's always a teensy spark left and hope to give before the end of the day; to be able to end the day with a bang. Like my mom said today, Go Hard or Go Home. And that's the truth.

For all you chocolate lovers, sweet tooths, or simply those with a hearty appetite calling for that sweet, delicious pastry that you just wholeheartedly enjoyed every bite of, down to the last crumb, be proud. I can now successfully label myself as someone who ate not one, but two typical Austrian Germknödel - yeast based dumplings with plum butter placed inside; served with melted butter and poppy seeds crushed with sugar. Although I still have ways to go and eons to reach before finding pleasure in consuming deserts and not have them be labeled as fear foods, I'm doing my part, taking initiative.

A typical Austrian Comfort Food - Germknödel.
I used to love this as a little kid, and will successfully have conquered this as a fear food soon.

Learning to live. Wanting to live. Needing to live.

That's what it comes down to. I want to be able to tick off deserts from my list of fear foods, which includes not only the process of consuming a piece of desert but the thought process that goes along with it, as part of my recovery. Yes, I get sick, dizzy, stomache cramps, headaches, you name it, after a meal - not to mention the thoughts that start to try and tear me down - but I pursue and stay strong. I finish the desert successfully and live with the results, knowing that one day, those will all be gone. 

First Whole Meal

Today was hectic to say the least. First off, it's Monday, the start of the week. And secondly, the nursing team, including all doctors, psychologists, etc. needed to be informed on the occurences of the weekend - which took eons, just like mountains slowly changing shape over time, for each of the eight patients here. 

Usually this morning ritual ends at 10, today it ended just before lunch arrived. Stressful you say? You're most definitely right. Imagine Times Square in New York at its peak hour - having millions of people scramble all over the place, hurrying from one shop to the next, the traffic, the noise, the lights; simply everything - it just gets very overwhelming.

To make matters worse, and to add to all the already built-up anxiety, I was informed that I would, from now, eat WHOLE meals instead of simply half of a meal. The additional calories over the nose tube would remain though.

And I managed to get rid of that voice.

I successfully ate a whole meal even though I was anxious all day.

I overcame my fear of eating once again.

I defeated that little devil up there.

I tried to enjoy my food.

I used all the encouragement and support from everyone to keep going, because I know that my body needs all the nourishment it can get to heal and get healthy.

Support from Loved Ones

"A house is made of love and beams; a home is built with love and dreams" - Unknown

This quote says it all. A family is a place built on love and support for each other. The parents cherish their children and would do anything to help them grow and succeed as an indivudal in the outside world. Deep affection is clearly visible between the parents and their children, as there is no deeper bond between anybody else than them - as they are bonded through blood.

It is in human's nature, to neglect this oh-so-important reality at times - the fact that our family is always there for us, in both the good and bad times. That they are there to help us get through the tough times, supporting us one hundred percent, and by trying their absolute hardest to make the recovery to a better life as smooth as possible.

And that's what finally hit me today, sporadically, while I was enjoying my "kitty wash" this morning, thinking about how beautiful it is outside - longing for the day I can finally feel and inhale the scent of fresh air again. Ever since I developed my eating disorder and was officially diagnosed with it in November of 2011, my parents have done everything they possibly can to ensure that I live; to make sure that I survive just another day. We didn't   make plans for the future, as their worries and thoughts that ran through their head non-stop during the year revolved around me and my disorder. They planned how to survive the day with that devil that fell upon me, that chose me and my family. My parents sacrificed all of their time, my dad cancelling most of his business trips during the year to make sure that he is near me and enable to encourage me to eat - regardless of what it was, as long as I ate something to reassure him that I wouldn't go completely without food. A few days ago, my mom told me that she has cried herself to sleep everyday since this all began because she was so worried about me and if I would live, or if the disorder had alread taken over me completely and it was too late to do anything about it.

Even now, while I am at the hospital, my parents are adapting their entire routine around me, ensuring that there is always one of them in Vienna. Here, with me, beside me; helping me get through these tough times of successfully fighting against the voice several times a day. They haven't seen each other in more than a month, and it will be another week before they do. Because, I realized just how much time and effort they have given into helping me get better, they haven't had time for themselves. And so, my gift to them, is getting healthy again and enjoy living because that's all that matters. 

As I started with a quote, I will end with one as well - as it perfectly describes my thoughts right at this very moment.

Another Step Taken In The Right Direction

There comes a time when we start to feel anxious, scared, frightened, or even haunted by whatever thoughts are going through our mind at the current occassion. Hopefully we don't fall into that state often. If we do, it would be just as horrendous as having to acknowledge every single one of ones co-workers, either with a nice gesture or greeting, every morning - even the ones we despise. It is a painful and agonizing process that one really doesn't need to go through on a daily basis; or even weekly for that matter.

But we do, and that's life. The way we deal with these occurences is what distinguishes our character; whether we give into our mind or fight and stand tall, like the Statue of Liberty. No one is positive 24/7, but the willingess and eagerness to try to achieve that supportive mindset is what sets one apart from the rest, showing one's strength in character.

For me, right now, I am in this situation seven times a day. Seven. Seven times where I have to argue with that devil, that awfully painful voice - just like a chalk that is being dragged across a blackboard in a slow and agonizing manner, creating the most horrific sound - and trying to conquer it. After evrey occurence, I know that I will only grow stronger. Although my mind persistently tries to interfere with my state of mind, I have been successful in conquering it at all meals today.

Today marks the first day in which I ate everything I was given. Not even crumbs were left behind on any of the three meal plates nor was there a single drop of the supplement drink left unnoticed at the bottom of the syringe for the other four. What a success.

Being me, I had to document everything I ate today, so that I am in fact able to remind myself just how far I have come since my admission here. My three regular meals today consisted of

Breakfast: apple, fruit yogurt, muesli, butter, whole wheat bread

Lunch: italian vegetable soup, polenta patties, courgette-tomato stew, salad with yogurt dressing and a brioche croissant

part of my lunch

Dinner: herbs soup, tomato-basil spread, one roll, one whole wheat bread, a tomato and cheese

Writing down all the nutrients that I have generously given my body today, making it healthier, makes me realize just how far I have come mentally. Although I felt horrible during the process as well as after, I survived. I'm still here, fighting.

Like the title says, it's another step in the right direction. It can only go upwards from here.

Encouragement and Support

Today’s been a rough day to say the least - one of the worst for sure - like one of those school days everyone dreads, where the time just does not seem to pass, and you are stuck there for ages, robbing you all of your energy and zest for life. I am emotionally drained, incredibly anxious and am most likely getting a virus.

The day started out amazing, but now, at night time, I’m not in a good and positive mindset at all because I am genuinely scared of the night nurse, whom I have never seen here this past month, and am probably getting an infection as the evening ritual of checking one’s blood pressure, temperature, pulse, etc revealed that I have acquired a mild fever. In most cases, it means nothing, something that you simply have for a day or two because you over-exhausted yourself and need to rest. But for me, in my condition, it’s not good. I already receive antibiotic medication twice daily, which is generally used to lower one’s temperature. But now, with 37.4 C and all other symptoms, I am scared that it will lead to setbacks in my recovery process as my health is still in a critical condition. Panic-stricken, that’s what I am, like the children in the well-known movie Monsters Inc  in which the ‘monsters’ creep into children’s rooms while they are in deep slumber -  dreaming of their fondest moments they have experienced thus far in their short little lives - scaring them to death. I want to get better, to get healthy. I really do not need any more complications. Tomorrow, the doctor’s will be informed and hopefully I’ll receive excellent news, that it is simply my body adjusting and that it is normal to happen; like a student eagerly running home with the biggest grin on his face, showing his parents a report card with the best grades possible. We’ll see. And I promise that to who ever reads my daily thoughts and vents, I will inform you. I’m hoping for the best.

I genuinely hope that by journalling and writing down my thoughts, that I can clear my mind and get rid of that wretch up there that is so dominating right now it is almost unbearable; just like having a big, strong, muscular and tough looking man bawl at you, and scrutinize you only with foul language without stopping. It’s horrible, trust me.

This morning I was finally able to take a shower and now my hair is finally bearable again - conditioned, taken care of, the whole lot. It honestly felt like I was sitting at the hairdresser, getting my hair pampered by getting the best hair cure treatment known to man. Realistically, I know I didn’t, but boy it felt good to finally be able to wash and condition my hair again. There’s even better news: I walked the ten meters to the shower by myself, without the help of a nurse - completely wobbly on my feet - but still. And that’s all because of starting physiotherapy yesterday. It seems like a miracle to me - like witnessing a shooting star soar through the horizon in a flash before it disappears before your eyes - being able to not need someone else's support to walk a short distance in such a teeny span of time. But I did it, I managed.

Then, at the daily round of the nursing team and doctors that occurs everyday at 10 am sharp, like clock work, I was informed that my meal plan would change abruptly. I would now have 1/2 of the typical portions for breakfast, lunch and dinner as well as being fed over the tube, still. Pure horror. Not only that, but I wasn’t told in advance, so I couldn’t mentally prepare myself and try to rationalize with my mind that it is what’s best for me, for my health, and that the experts know what they are doing. And guess what? I managed most my meals today  - with all the help, support and encouragement that I have from everyone around me.

Although regular patients here at the hospital, are able to chose from three different selections for all three meals, I was simply given three today, robbing me of my freedom in a sense. But again, I managed. I was so anxious, so afraid of the food - the voice in my head was screaming like it hadn’t in ages - because it wasn’t things I wouldn’t have chosen to consume. Noodles; I don’t remember the last time I had noodles - it seems like a decade ago - as they became a fear food for me that I avoided at all costs during the depths of my eating disorder; but I achieved to eat almost the complete half portion successfully. At lunch, the psychologist sat with me: comforting me, reassuring me that it is necessary for my body, my health - to try and eat as much as possible from the portion I was served - and was able to distract me from those horrid thoughts nested up there like a bird, still making itself feel at home. But slowly and surely, the voice is diminishing. At dinner, my mother was with me, and she basically did the same as the psychologist. In regards to eating, today was a success I must admit, most definitely.

And then it clicked. I realized how many people are here for me, supporting me through these hard times that I have to endure at the moment. I receive so much encouragement from everyone around me that it astounds me; I am speechless -  just like a woman that finds out she is pregnant and will start a family with her beloved.

So I dedicate this bog post to everyone who is there for me, supporting me in whatever way they can - whether that is by simply reading my blog, messaging me over facebook or another site, as there are so many nowadays that one really can’t keep track, to visiting me and sitting beside me while I eat. So thank you. I never realized how many people cared about me; but I realize now that I am surrounded by loved ones who would do anything for me. Take my parents for instance, they alternately travel halfway across the world from Tokyo to Vienna to ensure that I am never alone. Not to mention all the visitors I receive, bringing me small little gifts - to be honest, it feels like christmas whenever I receive a lucky charm, a card, a drawing, etc; whatever, as everything, no matter what it is, is a sign of love. And that, that alone, knowing that I have so many people rooting for me, gives me the strength to pursue with my recovery.

My window shelf, displaying things brought by people who have visited me thus far 

A lion I was given by elementary school friends that has the saying "Get Better" on it's scarf that I received today, that will now occupy my bed for the remainder of my stay here.

The hospital book that I started in which everyone that visits creates a page of their own,, writing words of solace and encouragement; that I will then forever keep.

Thank you everyone, for all the support. It means the world to me and helps me continue to fight.

Patience - Everything Takes Time

I arrived here at this intensive psychiatric station on Friday, September 7, over three weeks ago, which seems like a decade ago for me, as time goes by so slowly; much the opposite to taking one of your most important exams and hoping, wishing, longing for the time to go by as slowly as possible to enable you to be absolutely certain of your and finish “on time” - after having nearly died as I was prognosed to not survive the weekend.

I was informed of this horrendous news by one of the experts here on September 18, when I willfully decided to start my new life and finally take my life in the right direction and return to a happier version of myself - I can’t even remember the last time I thoroughly had a good time, where I laughed and simply had a good time. It was probably back when dinosaurs roamed the earth, haha. And yes, this devil robs you of your happiness hormones as well as your health - which is something else I want to gain back, my love for life - making you depressed and suicidal.

Thank God my mindset changed on September 18 may I add; I am done being immersed in my eating disorder, where food, calories and all the planning it involved - when I ate, what I ate, or if I even ate all that day - occupied my mind 24/7. As if I were so fixated on mastering that one incredibly difficult and hard to achieve dismount on the bar for a gymnast that that’s all they practiced for days, never fully perfecting it.

I still have a long way to go in regards to getting healthy - both internally and externally - I just need to be patient, as everything takes its time. I’ve taken the first step and have continued to fight, and that’s what I fully intend to keep on doing.

Like the well-known saying goes, hang in there, everything will takes it’s course and turn out all right in the end. It all just takes time.

First ‘meal’ in more than a month of being nose fed

Last night was a highlight in my recovery process and a milestone in eventually pushing anorexia nervosa out of my life for good, like you would an ex-boyfriend after finding him cheating on you several times with different girls out of sheer boredom he claims, even though you were always there for him, loving him dearly and comforting him in times of solace; almost like an eating disorder voice, only instead of whispering soothing phrases into your ears, it looks down on you, scrutinizing every flaw that you have as a person - both personality and body wise. “You’re a fat pig, you don’t deserve to eat that.” “Do you really need to eat that last bit of carrot? It’ll only end up on your thighs and make you fatter,” You disgusting fat cow deserve nothing.” Having to battle this voice continuously twenty-four-seven requires strength and endurance, like serious athletes training for the Olympics. It’s agonizing pain and tough work that I have to endure on a daily basis. 

The meal I was about to scarf down - as I was anxiously anticipating the doctor’s final approval of being able to eat something - if you could even call it that at all, was cauliflower soup with one piece of rusk. Both were things I loved to eat before my eating disorder. It is a special light diet I am on, as my eating regiment here is being monitored very precisely, even several times daily. 

The importance here is that I chose to eat this willingly and without being forced to, astounding not only my father but the helpers as well. That was last night’s enormous victory; mostly for my mentality, as it showed how strong and determined I have become through my stay here; especially after my ‘rebirth’ on September 18, with the whole idea behind 2 days, half a body that shocked me to death, and still does.

Finally, real food I thought; something other than being tube fed. I felt a sense of relief, of ultimately doing something against these hunger signals that have been foreign to me since August 2011 when this all started; that I’ve been having these past few days. It was another baby step in the right direction, definitely.

The experts here have told me countless times that the time will come when I can eat on top of my meals that I am given through a nose tube. For the past four weeks, I had gotten my meals - breakfast, lunch, dinner with three snacks in between - via this tube that I so desperately wanted to get rid off at first, as I was not fully choosing to recover until September 18, my new beginning, like a pup wanting to rid itself of its cocoon only to evolve into a beautiful, breathtakingly butterfly. 

All I want is to enjoy and feel normal around food again, which will take its time. During these past few weeks, I have been having very few hunger signals, yet wasn’t allowed to eat anything as the re-feeding process is very complicated and there is plentiful of monitoring involved - my blood work, organs as well as the calories and the amount of liquid that my body is allowed to consume don a daily basis to ensure that everything is heading in the right direction and that no complications or drawbacks arouse. I am not saying that drawbacks haven’t happened, as they have, but I have full faith in the experts here.

So yesterday night, I was informed by the doctors that I finally reached the critical weight where I am allowed, not forced, but allowed, to eat a light diet in addition, that solely consists of one piece of rusk with my morning meal, and soup and another piece of rusk for both my lunch and evening meal. It might not seem like a lot to you or anyone else, but that fact that I chose to eat this willingly on top of my regular portion that I receive through the tube for my main meals is unbelievable; so much that my father started crying as he was unable to comprehend what was happening, Me, who has fasted fifteen days at times, was choosing to eat even though the need was no there; but I’ve been having hunger signals for the past few days - which, have been nonexistent for as long as I can remember - and I want to get better, so I sporadically decided to challenge not only myself but my eating disorder as well. And that my friends, is a huge step in my recovery process as I won and my eating disorder lost once again, like the Portuguese soccer team when they face the unbeatable Spanish team with goalie of the year, and one my favorites, Ilker Casillas. 

It felt amazing to be able to eat real food again after such a long time of being fed via this tube - that not only makes me look like an alien, with it hanging down from my nose while being fixated on my right cheek, but it also means that I have made enough progress on the gaining front to not only rely on the tube anymore - and the meal itself was quite delicious if I may say so. 

As previously mentioned, my father was sitting next to me while I ate - watching my every move - on my bed, as bed rest is still an issue, completely incapable of grasping the situation; of my sheer willpower and determination to stand on my own two feet again without needing the constant supervision and daily lab work that needs to be done here. The same can be said for the helpers who were here for their night shift. They were tremendously proud of me and I couldn’t believe how delighted they are of my mindset for being so willing to accept treatment, unlike many of the other seven patients here.

The reason behind being solely nose fed for such a long timeframe is because at the hospital I was in prior, they started to put my body through what is known as the ‘re-feeding syndrome’ in which it is very likely that you end up in a coma and die. As part of the re-feeding syndrome,  you are given a certain amount of calories via a nose tube on top of regular meals and portion sizes that your body is unable to process this correctly. Your inner organs, all their functions and your blood work are so destroyed because it they been used to nothing for so long and the sudden dramatic influx in calories leads to the coma. Had I not gotten one of the eight beds here, I would not have survived; which I later found out through the doctors here and that information is completely hard to take in still, and tremendously shocking to think about how close I came to dying. They gave me two days, at most, if I had stayed at the psychiatric station there. I mean, I would have never seen my mother, or brother, or any other loved ones for that matter, ever again.

It’s been three weeks yesterday that I thankfully received a place here at the intensive psychiatric ward, the best in all of Austria. Only here are they able to nurse my body back to health; it is nowhere near healthy still, but I am no longer under a complete life and death situation; it is still life-threatening though. Blood tests, careful calorie and liquid counting, ECKs, ECGs, as well as daily talks among the four doctors that specialize in anorexia nervosa with two of the top dietitians in the country, occur on a daily basis to ensure that everything in my recovery is moving relatively smoothly.

Upon my arrival here, my caloric intake over the tube was lowered immediately that I continued to lose weight, but was a necessary step to avoid the outcome that would’ve occurred had I not been brought here due to the previously mentioned re-feeding syndrome that had started at the other hospital. Over the course of the last three weeks, my weight as well as everything else regarding my body, has been monitored several times a day to ensure that there are no signs of major complications. 

Also during this three week period, the caloric value that I received increased several times, I wouldn’t know how much or when, as the words weight and calories are strictly prohibited to be talked about between these specialists and me, like the word Voldemort is generally avoided in Harry Potter; they are simply not mentioned. I find it beneficial as I haven’t thought about my weight or how many calories I’ve been consuming. 

This process has been horrible for that eating disoedwe voice up there, yelling, screaming, cussing at me that I’m only getting fatter and am a failure, a worthless piece of blob that does not need to exist. But you know what? Those voices can go down the drain, because again, ever since September 18, my mentality has witnessed a onehundredaandeighty degree switch and I am now fully accepting recovery and the agonizing process of waiting it out here in this psychiatric ward, and to diminish the voice that remains, talking down on my twenty-four-seven - nothing but horrid images, thoughts and demands to me - as much as I can through distractions. 

It is unsure of how long I still need to stay here as weight gain and how fast your body heals and recovers after such a life-threatening situation is unknowing, it is unable to predict and say exactly how long I have to remain here. At least I have reached the first step, and to think that took three weeks is unfathomable, but I am now allowed to eat the given small light diet portions previously mentioned to my main meals that I get via the tube. The next step is to weigh enough to be able to not have bed rest anymore. That’s all I know for now, as the doctors don’t want to promise me anything unrealistic as to my dismissal, so they only let me know what the next step is. It is an agonizing process, but one I need to endure, even when times are tough.

Maybe my blog makes it seem easy to choose recovery, because I try to stay positive on it. It takes so much strength to fight and endure this long and agonizing process, but I know that it is worth it in the end, for I will gain my health and life back. Being on bed rest for three weeks and more to come; having your phone taken away; only being able to communicate through internet; limited space for personal belongings, that need to first be checked by the team in case there is something they consider detrimental in any of the patient’s recoveries; to only having a little night stand; to being forced to wear lumpy old potato-sacks when you are stuck on bed rest; the other patients here, where some, like the ‘new’ arrival that was in my room for a night that I mentioned, scare me to death that I continuously cry myself to sleep; those are the conditions that I deal with on a daily basis.

The purpose of this blog is for me to vent my feelings regarding my recovery. For me, it is a form of therapy as it helps get all the thoughts out of my head and onto paper, or in this case, the blog. 

Recovery is anything but an easy process, if it were, the death rate of anorexia wouldn’t be so incredibly high. But right now, with my mindset, and the baby steps that I am so courageously taking and making, I can sometimes already see the light at the end of the tunnel. And that’s something I’ve not been able to say since August 2011, when this all started to ruin my life.

Comfort, that's all I crave

It’s hard to be all alone when times are rough, whether it be about the fight you just had over the phone with your boyfriend, accusing him of cheating, to laying in bed at an intensive psychiatric care station where you are bawling your eyes out, crying yourself to sleep every night. Nobody deserves to be left alone with their feelings, ever, and if the opportunity presents itself to call loved ones, please do so, as the feelings of being loved are magically radiated through the phone, leaving you with more courage and willpower than before.

At this intensive psychiatric ward, the best in the country, people don’t come here willingly, usually. They are forced to be brought under through court orders and all that jazz because they are in severe danger of themselves and/or others. 

But I came here willingly, that is the main difference in distinguishing me from the other 7 patients here. Only these specialists, at this unit, have the knowledge and the know-how to nurse me back to health. I am fully accepting recovery as I want to be able to live again, to run around carelessly through the meadows with friends on a warm sunny day, enjoying that nice little picnic as the sun sets over the horizon without having to worry about the numbers that have destroyed my life last year - weight, calories, and BMI.

As the other patients were forced to be brought here, they obviously don't want to accept the treatment that would however, benefit them tremendously; giving them the satisfaction of gaining their life back as well, regardless of which mental disorder, such as major depressive disorder, a different type of eating disorder, or bipolar disorder, they have fallen victim to. Like previously said, what distinguishes me from these 7 other people is that I am accepting the treatment and cooperating, like the Spanish soccer team does when facing opponents, continuously passing the ball successfully and communicating efficiently, like a team, with the experts here; slowly gaining my life back. 

The others, especially new arrivals, scare me to death and do not share my current state of mind. They often have to be chained to their bed so that they cannot run away like a deer would, if it noticed that it were being hunted. They are brought here under court order, and are given medication upon medication to try to get them to quieten and eventually fall sleep. And hopefully, through a long and agonizing process, not only for themselves but the others in the room like me as well, as we have to witness this madness, they too will realize that they are ill and need these specialists to get better.

The new arrival from yesterday was especially tough on me emotionally. Not only were extra strong male helpers from other stations notified and brought in to lock him down on his bed while the newly arrived, six foot tall man, just stood there standing colossal, ready to embrace the challenge - like one of the villain’s in those children’s movies that always ends up failing - yelling and screaming in a gibberish of really foul swear words and German with a heavy Russian accent. The good news is, he’s finally asleep, as he has been forced to have a vast array of medications. Yet the worst news is that he lays opposite of me in this four bed jail-like looking room. Thank God for the curtains that are capable of dividing the room into four, saving me from witnessing something so horrid. 

This all happened this night, shortly after visiting hours were over at 8 pm, so no one was there to console me, to tell me that things would be fine, like a mother comforts and solaces her youngest after she misplaces her barbie somewhere in their lovely family household. 

I had no one, it was dark and nighttime. I was, and still am, scared of this patient lying across from me. I’m scared of how he will act, of what he is capable of doing; that I’ve been crying nonstop, with tears jotting down my cheeks like waterfalls. I wanted to leave, to be with someone I trust as the situation was anything but pleasant, yet I know that I need to be here because of what I have put my body through this past year.

I was stuck.

I am now sitting here in my bed, alone, crying, having anxiety attacks and simply being scared to death to say the least; I was emotionally worn down to the extreme. Yes, I was alone with regards to the people around me, but my favorite stuffed animal never leaves my side, and while it may sound childish and immature, it gives me comfort when I need it most. I finally feel at ease holding onto my favorite, worn-down, big, fluffy stuffed animal with dear life, inhaling his scent, like a child who runs to his mommy, for reassurance that everything is going to be okay. 

Friedolin, My Savior

What I get when I cuddle Friedolin, the loveliest carrot stuffed animal there is, is coziness, support, comfort, and I finally feel at ease and the idea that everything will be all right begins to settle in my mind; that it’s worth it to keep going with recovery, even when times are tough. Because Friedolin gives me the comfort and reassurance that I so desperately crave and long for, like a chocolate-lover and his obsession with anything chocolate covered.

Friedolin lies next to me in my bed every night, being my comforter for when I am all alone, enabling me to doze off into a deep slumber, only to wake up fully refreshed and positive for the day to come, to not only get healthier but stronger as well.