Japanese Proverb

"One kind word can warm three winter months"

This saying is perfect for the circumstance that I am in.

1. It is officially winter for me as today marks the first advent sunday and it snowed for the first time since October! Winter is finally really here :3
2. I am receiving positive feedback from friends and family that I am getting better and looking healthier.
3. I love my mom for telling me this quote today.

Recovery isn't easy, it's hard work - there are bad days when nothing seems to go as planned, negative thoughts still exist, certain anorectic rituals still surface, thoughts regarding restricting and not meeting my meal plan come up. I know that upon reading my blog, many of you must think that I am doing extremely well with recovery, having one positive achievement after the next, which is true, but some negative aspect in one form or another always manages to sneak up on me from behind day in day out. On this blog however, I try to focus on the positive as it is a motivator for me, encourages me to keep fighting and it is self-soothing in a way, like therapy, as I am able to reflect on something positive that I accomplished.

Regardless, for me, the 'three winter months' symbolizes my road through recovery and all the battles and hardships that I face along the way. Like winter, recovery is bitter, raw, arctic, and frosty - in other words, not pleasant. So hearing positive feedback and encouragement from others concerning my journey towards getting healthy and gaining my life back really does make the fight worthwhile. Upon receiving heartening and morale-boosting through just a few simple words, my world can be turned upside down, as I become joyful and ecstatic to know that everything I am dealing with is paying off.

As cliché as it is, you only live once, and it's up to each of us to make our life worth living. 

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.

Friendships - Support & Encouragement

Ever since coming to the hospital in September, I have built up my repertoire of friends successfully. Due to the constant moving around and never being in Vienna except for the summer, it's been tough staying in touch with friends from kindergarten, elementary school, or even earlier - back when I was a baby. At the beginning of summer upon my arrival in Vienna, I only had contact to maybe three people that weren't part of my family.

But now, all of that is different; I have built up connections and friendships with so many friends from earlier again. I can honestly say that I value every single relationship like it were the most precious jewel the world has to offer - that much. All of them have my back, are encouraging, caring and show their support by making room in their busy schedules to come and visit me here. I can't say this enough, but thank you for making my stay here so much more bearable. I don't know where I'd be without all of my friends. They give me so much strength and encouragement that I know I can do it; perseverance and patience are all it takes from this point on. I just have to keep going; with the amazing support. 

I don't know where I'd be without you all, you are all part of my rock, my foundation.

Food is Fuel

This station, 6B, is specifically for people with eating disorders, sleeping disorders and those with anxiety stares. Because of this, there is a broad range of people here. Out of the 16 people currently here, only two others suffer from anorexia nervosa. Like me, they are trying their hardest to gain weight and become healthy. 

I am expected to finish all of my meals and drink all of my supplement drinks by the doctors, just as I was down in the intensive station. I can honestly say that I have achieved this every day since coming here as I have not given in to my eating disorder that far; the only thing that's been bringing me down is the thoughts. They've been stronger lately.

But that's beside the point, what I'm trying to say is that it's hard to finish meal after meal, making sure that every little crumb is taken care of by my tummy while I sit across from others at the table who barely touch their food. I know that they aren't here to gain weight like me, but it just makes it so much more difficult and agonizing to eat, knowing that there is people here who do not need to eat that much. This, of course, makes me feel guilty for eating. But do I give in to my eating disorder? Do I listen to those thoughts? Do I use my anorexic rituals? The answer is quite simple - No. I am stronger. I choose life. 

I keep telling myself that the food I eat is fuel for my body, that my body needs the nutrients to become healthy once again. 

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. 

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.

Looking Forward to a Meal

Today, for the first time in what feels like eons, I woke up refreshed - feeling exactly like sleeping beauty after she wakes to find herself in a different century - I woke up calm. The nights before, I had horrid sleeping patterns, waking up several times a night just to find myself stare at the empty ceiling above me. I slept in pain; suffered through all my negative thoughts at night; and most likely gave in to those thoughts that I've successfully conquered during the day while in my series of catnaps you could say - taking the amount of times I was up into consideration. But now, ever since yesterday, I felt at ease even during the night. My bones didn't ache with every move; I didn't need three blankets just because I had no energy to heat myself; I no longer needed a pillow between my legs so that my knees wouldn't have to touch as that would hurt and be uncomfortable. Yesterday was the first night it was different. I didn't feel like a skeleton (although I still am very very thin - which is something I'm trying to change willingly). I hope that tonight will be the same blissful experience.

Waking up to my fully decorated window in the morning sunlight is pure joy and I already knew that today, I was in charge. That today, those thoughts could go, excuse my language, screw themselves as I had better things to do. Now comes the most important news of the day: I was HUNGRY. Me, hungry? I heard my stomach growl and couldn't believe it. I was looking forward to breakfast. Me, looking forward to a meal. Gosh, the last time that happened was probably last summer. Maybe it's because it contained my favorite breakfast item - muesli - but nontheless, I was looking forward to breakfast.

Today in total was a MAJOR RECOVERY WIN DAY.

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.

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. 

Truth

There's a famous saying that one of the caregivers - my favorite, to be honest - informed me of that sums up everything perfectly. 

This quote symbolizes nothing but the truth. Everyone faces their daily struggles, everyone has their downs - that's normal. But the importance lies in fighting back, in being able to overcome that one nasty little hurdle if they keep pursuing their goal - to stand up strong. 

You will get there. I will get there. I will be healthy again.It just takes time.

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.

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.