One Month and One Day

It's amazing how fast time passes in certain instances; it seems like just yesterday that I arrived at the 'new' station. No wonder that there's the saying time flies when you're having fun.

Although there's been rough days, such as the station lockdown, losing weight and the two times that I seriously considered leaving here before my planned date because I couldn't deal with the circumtances correctly, it's been a positive journey for the most part.

Let's just have a little recap of all the positive achievements that I have accomplished in the past month while being here:

• Eating a wrong meal successfully; one that I didn't order in my meal plan
• My first time being outside since August
• My first overnight stay away from the hospital
• My first eating out experience that wasn't in the hospital
• My first time eating at a restaurant and ordering a proper meal from the menu without tweaking the dish to lessen the calorie content
• Consuming both additional food as well as liquid calories
• Gaining weight
• Staring to enjoy food

I think that the list goes to show just how successful I have been and how much I was able to execute. Now I just need to remember that not everyday can be completely positive, that setbacks will occur. In those moments, it will be key to not give in to those anorexic thoughts but to keep going - even stronger.

Wrong Meal - Don't Care

Tonight was a day like any other. I had the correct breakfast (the one I chose last week), same with lunch. But then, here comes the twist to the day, a different dinner awaited me; one that I didn't chose.

I told one of the nurses and she checked my meal plan. At first she thought I was lying so that I could get out of eating. But, to her surprise, I was correct. I had gotten a meal that I didn't order.

Did I care? Yes. Did my thoughts go all over the place, telling me that it's a good excuse not to eat. Yes. Did I listen to those thoughts? Did I act on them? Did I succumb to them? NO.

Even though I wasn't pleased with the meal that I was faced with - with what was in front of me - I ate everything on that plate, down to the last crumb. Although it didn't taste delicious, I didn't give in to my thoughts. I'm stronger than them.

I kept telling myself that my body needs those nutrients, those calories, regardless of whether it is something that I enjoy eating - something that I actually chose for my meal plan - or not. Like the saying goes, yolo:

You only live once.

Time to make the best of it.

Operation: Keeping Myself Busy

On the weekend, with no therapy sessions and most people gone on night leave, it is extremely hard to stay away from all the negativity. Trying to occupy myself all day from seven in the morning until nine at night without any distractions is hard work.

But I managed.

The operation keeping myself busy on the weekend focuses on decorating the station with christmas spirit is successful. I have been creating window colors, paper cranes and christmas lights all day today, and tomorrow I am putting everything up in the station.

I'm proud of myself for managing so well today - without having left the station and being successful in occupying myself.

Today was a good day.

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.

A Perk of Recovery

When I arrived at the hospital, skeletal, lifeless, dead as a doornail, I couldn't move any of my joints at all - I was in that much pain. But I didn't care, because that voice controlled every aspect of my life back then. Now all I hear are thoughts, and even those are diminishing, slowly, just as time is ticking away day by day. It will still take an incredible amount of persistence, strength and time for those thoughts to ultimately disappear - just like that red handkerchief always does when the magician flicks his wand and says a spell.

As I was incapable and unfit to even move from one side to the other on my bed upon arrival here, you could say I was pretty much unable to move at all. But now, as I am slowly gaining my health back, the perks of recovery are definitely becoming visible. At the beginning, all I did was sleep. Now, I don't, obviously or I wouldn't be writing this, ha. One thing that hasn't change is that I still have strict bedrest as my weight is still incredibly low (I am only allowed to leave my bed for my daily shower, or with the physiotherapist). But I'm trying to change that willingly and so I've accepted that bedrest is the best option for me right now, as I know that weight gain is a slow and tiring process.

Now, I am able to not only blog here; I am able to have proper conversations again without forgetting what I've said a minute before, or not hearing part of someone's question - always an embarassing thing, especially when it happens to you when speaking with a doctor; I can make friendship bracelets; I read; I can do things. That's the most important thing. I'm not lifeless anymore, I am finally able to move and live again.

Today in physiotherapy I managed my first 1 km on the stationary bike with no resistance - I feel on top of the world writing this down because it shows how far I've come. I know it doesn't seem like much, but it's a milestone for me. I was unable to even take a step five weeks ago, don't forget, and now, here I am, biking a whole kilometer! Bizarre. I loved every minute of it, I cherished it greatly. Tomorrow I'm supposed to play table tennis with my physiotherapist, we'll see how that goes. One thing's for sure, I'm looking forward to it!

A Little Pampering Never Hurt No One

Should there be a quota in regards to pursuing recovery; doing what is considered necessary in gaining a semblance of a life back? It could be based on reaching and taking appropriate recovery steps in the right direction. Who wouldn't love that? Being treated for doing the right thing once, twice, or even several times daily - which comes with quite a few favors free for one to use to their advantage. Achieving this quota countless times would enable a whole spa day, using each 'ticket' - one could call it - for a different activity such as a manicure, pedicure, massage, etc. Realistically talking though, as much as I would want this quota to exist as it would be heavenly, recovery is something one should go about handling for themselves. Recovering for favors, for goodies, for one's parents, one's boyfriend, whom or whatever, it won't work as the thoughts are too strong and you too weak, succumbing to their demands. The first time I gave recovery a go, I was under the impression of being able to wing this by wanting to recover for someone else. That idea backfired, to say the least as it got me here. Well, now I know better and am going through this process by myself, for myself, my body and my health. Now I'm not saying that rewards aren't something not to have or look forward to, one just shouldn't base their recovery around them.

So, here I am, typing this as part of my nightly ritual here, being given a head massage by my mom, whom I adore and love unconditionally - to the moon and back - and enjoying it, but for the right reasons.

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.

One Month

Today, I will keep it short, simple and to the point, as I am too ecstatic to sit here and blog the night away as I have a reason to celebrate - like your sixteenth birthday, something that everyone simply looks forward to as it is a sign of growing up. I've alluded to being admitted to this station on Friday, September 7, 2012 several times. That's some important knowledge I tell you, so please - from now on - remember that date, engrain it in your brain to ensure that you will remember it for an eternity; or at least until I am finally healthy again. 

September 7. That day will always remain in my mind. It is the day that changed my life for the better. I was given another chance at life, who doesn't want that? Who doesn't want to be able to live, to enjoy themselves, to just have a good time with friends? No one, that's who. And that's why today is a reason of celebrating my process of regaining my life back. As today is Friday October 5, I have been here exactly a month today. One month of fighting, of battling that demon - like Spiderman man does continuously, day and night - is what I have been able to achieve with all the help, support and encouragement.

I'm thankful beyond belief that I've basically been given another chance at life, and have just completed my first month. And boy does it feel good, like one of those nice, soothing foot massages that everyone secretly craves and longs for. 

Having had bed rest the whole month, I have begun to enhance my creative outlet by a ten fold. It's because it helps me relax; it rids me of all plenty of my negative thoughts - just as if I were taking a hot bath and simply relaxing, clearing my mind and enjoying the warmth. I find that by doing something creative - instead of being on the laptop, of sleeping, of breaking rules and not following your own personal treatment plan, or worst of all, constantly thinking and giving into that voice up there, telling me I'm too fat and worthless to live - I calm down. I'm able to push away those thoughts, little by little, helping me relax and even enjoy myself at something, while not being immersed in eating disordered behavior and thoughts.

So to quickly recap, I've been given another chance at life exactly a month ago and I agreed and couldn't be more exhilirated. I can't wait until the day I'm completely healthy again.

My creative outlet that is retained in my  little night, thatthankfully  keeps me company and occupied during the day. It includes: DVDs, friendship bracelets, crocheting, a jewelery making kit, magazines, books, games, a cross stitch picture, my laptop, my phone, stuffed animals with words of encourgament and a self-make photo-album - as well as other things not included in this beautifully crafted image and portrayal of most of my possessions 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.

Hunger Signals, Finally!

Yesterday was the first day in which I ate breakfast, lunch and dinner in God knows how long, maybe five weeks if I remember correctly. I mean, It was still an all light diet and solely consisted of 6 pieces of rusk and two delicious soups If I may say so myself - minestrone soup and herbs soup; both reminding me of Christmas and that heart-healthy feeling you get after eating something prepared by loved ones in times of joy and celebrations. I really can’t complain of yesterday’s food that I was forced to eat, but ate willingly, because I am stronger than that voice in my head. 

Not only did I eat my prescribed meal plan that I receive additionally to what I obtain via the nose tube, I asked for more. More food, that’s right, it’s like a big old slap in the face for that voice up there, because I have started to develop hunger signals. Which is a good thing! I’m excited like a little child at Christmas that is anxiously anticipating to rip the biggest, most decadently decorated Christmas present to pieces under the most beautifully ornamented fresh-smelling pine tree that I have every laid eyes upon. I can’t remember even the last time I felt remotely hungry, and yesterday of all days, in the presence of my father, they came back. I think it’s time for a little celebration up here, with party hats, the signature red plastic cups and the whole ordeal. 

The last time that I had felt even remorse hunger pains was maybe before Christmas, if not further back - that’s no exaggeration. I’m so glad that my body is slowly, gradually starting to heal itself. It shows that the baby steps I’m taking, where I laugh down at that rascal little voice in my mind - being stronger than him, time and time again - like lions against gladiators in traditional gladiator battles back in the day where the lion always prevailed. I know this all sounds splendid and wonderful, like a rainbow gently brushing beautifully over a city on a clear sky blue day, that I can finally feel and distinguish hunger signals, there’s some irony involved.

The doctor’s ensured me that it’s great that my body is starting to function normally to a certain extent, ensuring me that my health can only go up from here, but it takes time and the much required patience. The experts want everything to run smoothly, with as little setbacks as possible, in nursing me back to full health, that they are trying to do everything to ensure that I do not fall victim to the re-feeding syndrome that I mentioned on one of my prior posts. So, in normal english and the way it makes more sense to me, that is without all the medical terms mixed into it; back to the roots is what I’d like to call it, immediately making me think of caveman desperately trying to attempt to make fire by rubbing stones against each other, and my mood is immediately lifted - as the idea to do that in modern times seems absurd - for what I’m about to say.

Although I am finally experiencing hunger signals and couldn’t be more ecstatic, as it is yet another sign that my body is slowly capable of healing itself, there’s a downside, a setback, like there is whenever something seems to be going good for me. Basically, even though I have hunger signals, upon which a normal person would eat something as their body is informing them that it is in need of food; that it needs to be nourished and not neglected, like a cute three-colored cavalier King Charles spaniel pup that has been abandoned at a pet shelter.

For me, the hunger signals are not supposed to interfere with my current meal plan that is viciously overlooked, multiple times daily, by 4 experts and 2 nutritionists, like eagles stalking for their prey in the middle of nowhere. This means that I can’t just eat a piece of rusk or another soup, the only meals my body is currently capable of digesting and as recommended by the doctors.

But no, I need to endure these painful cramps and try to remain positive. I’m not even allowed to have something like sage candy or say, another glass of tea to numb the pain, because everything is monitored so carefully. It sucks, having to deal with all these aches and being able to do nothing about it, but I have to push through with this. It sucks, to say the least; It’s like planning the most scenic, splendid bridal shower only to realize that you yourself aren’t invitied to.

I need to constantly reinforce why I am here at this intensive station - it’s because I destroyed my body and nearly died as a result. The experts are only trying to ensure that I gain my health back the correct way, and that entails avoiding the re-feeding syndrome. I know recovery is a long and agonizing process, but I’ve come so far and there’s no way that I’m going back.

I am stronger than that voice, I can do this.

Words of Wisdom

A good friend once told me a German quote by Theresa von Avila, “Sei freundlich zu Deinem Körper, damit deine Seele Lust hat, darin zu wohnen.” Which, when translated into English, comes to be, “Nourish your body, so that your soul longs to live in it.” This saying, this very valid and important piece of knowledge, should really be taken to heart, like loved ones you adore and only wish the best for, as it is vital that one looks after their mental wellbeing and health. 

It should really be a quote to live by, almost like a life motto, reminding you of the necessity to treating your body correctly to ensure a superb wellbeing overall. This saying should, in fact, expand to become a life lesson, like one of the Ten Commandments that Jesus deemed necessary for living a full-filled life and focused on how others should be treated while not forgetting oneself in the situation. The quote most definitely has become one for me considering what I am going through at the moment. This quote opened my eyes to the healthy relationship between food and your body that I tried to attain at first, but fell victim to a disorder that did more harm than good. It perfectly describes that a health relationship with food is a necessity to feel well and be a in a good place mentally.

I adore, as well as, swear by this saying and my belief in its requisite to follow the information it exudes, is only enhanced by the experience I am currently having to endure; the process of not only gaining my life back, but my health as well, since I fell victim to the terrible disorder known as anorexia nervosa. 

Eating disorders in general, not just anorexia nervosa, the one I suffer from, try to take over one’s mental state and mind by forcefully placing its very powerful, manipulative voice into your mind, that constantly trying to manipulate you, making you give in and accept the demands and ideas set out by that horrid voice, putting your body and health on the line by making them suffer tremendously.

Yesterday was another good reminder to me as to how much truth, knowledge, and wisdom is prevalent in this saying that I have decided to make a focal point in my new room once the apartment is done renovating, making it visible for visitors while simultaneously functioning as a daily reminder to myself as to how each and everyday should start and end , a lot like a school system where a strict set of guidelines that need to be set and followed. As my apartment is currently being renovated, it will be all done and looking fresh and fabulous, like any lady walking down fifth avenue in Manhattan, for when I leave this intensive station with a healthy body and mind, to start my new life in new surroundings - a fresh-start to my new life. Although the voice will remain, like an alarm clock constantly trying to dictate your life’s schedule; only that I will be stronger and not willing to give into it, that nasty little rascal can rot away up there for all I care. When I leave here, I will leave this hospital ready to embrace my whole life in my new surroundings with a new mindset that centers around this powerful quote.

So I’m here to share it with you bloggers out there because I feel that it’s important to inform others just how horrid eating disorders are, as they are often neglected as being a serious illness, but just look at the statistics. According to the South Carolina Department of Mental Health, eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness. A study by the National Association of Anorexia Nervosa and Associated Disorders reported that 5 – 10% of anorexics die within 10 years after contracting the disease; 18-20% of anorexics will be dead after 20 years and only 30 – 40% ever fully recover. Lastly, 20% of people suffering from anorexia will prematurely die from complications related to their eating disorder, including suicide and heart problems. I find it unfathomable how eating disorders are often pushed aside as minor cases; they should generally be taken more seriously like cancer.

All I can share from personal experience is that it is absolutely and one hundred percent correct. If you do not nourish your body correctly, you will not feel well mentally and might even end up depressed. Last night I had a long, agonizing discussion with the doctor from the station. I’ve been placed here, at the best intensive psychiatric ward of the country, not because I’m not cooperating 110 %, but because my body and all its functions are so ruined and damaged, like the most exquisite and marvelous chocolate box you can think of that you accidentally drop on the street an have a car run over them, leaving them with nothing but the remnants, which in my case, were my bones.

I was skeletal beyond belief, so bony, and so malnourished upon my arrival, that it is still unfathomable for me to grasp, even yet I am incapable of looking at pictures of myself at my lowest point; I documented my story with them so I can never stop bawling my eyes by seeing how far anorexia had me in its grasp. Here’s to list of a few of the severe conditions that have resulted from the mistreated my body for so long. Not only did all my organs start to fail, my liver especially, reaching a value of over 1800, where the normal adult range lies between 5-40 IU/L. My kidney wasn’t looking to great either. Due to coagulopathy throughout my body, my stomach and upper legs turned purple. My blood count is still suffering immensely, as I have significant lack of white blood cells, which made the doctor’s question whether I developed leukemia or not. Thanks to an injection of antibodies into my stomach, the white blood cell level rose again. Not that my red blood cells were any better, as I needed to have two blood transfusions done yesterday. Today I will find out of my blood count and whether or not it is getting better. My messed up blood count is so worrisome that I an still on strict bed rest to ensure that I get in contact with as little toxins as possible. While the organs are starting to heal in a very tiring and agonizing process, I have no clue what to say towards my blood count.

So to close off this post, as you can see from my experience, it is vital to nourish and treat your body like a temple to ensure a stable wellbeing. I genuinely hope that you will never fall victim to one. These disorders are detrimental to your health, regardless of the specific one that has chosen to try to destroy your life.