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. 

It's Not Always as Topsy-Turvy as it Appears

My posts on this blog here tend to be quite positive, which in no way means that recovery is a smooth and easy-going process and that there is no negative thoughts or rituals involved. I do still have daily moments in which my anorexic tendencies surface in one way, shape or form. Just because I do not document it, does not mean that my recovery is easy going in any way.

Eating is still hard, I still struggle with every bite. But I am learning to deal with it by trying to enjoy what I take in. I hope to be able to fully enjoy food again soon. Moments still occur in which I regret taking that last bite, or finishing off a particular scary meal that contains several fear foods. Thoughts that come up on occasion involve: Why did you eat that, you already had enough; You don't need that; You're disgusting and don't deserve to treat yourself. I still have these thoughts, but I try not to dwell and listen to them.

I created this blog to have an outlet. On here, I document the positive things that occur during each day so that when I'm feeling down and not well - having anorexic thoughts - that I have a place to turn to and see just how far I have come. Documenting the negative aspects of my recovery would not do me any good as I don't want to be reminded of them, but rather of all the positives and all the successes I've achieved.

On a positive, I believe that I'm past that point in recovery where I'd contemplate ever going fully back to my disorder or try to lose weight. I'm coming to value my mental state more than my physical state and appearance these days which makes gaining weight easier to deal with. 

First Breaths of Fresh Air Since August

Although today is a Saturday, which means that there is no therapy sessions, no doctor's appointments - everything is still, dull and boring pretty much. Additionally, as is common at the station, patients are allowed to have weekend leave and stay at home from Saturday to Sunday. This meant that hardly anyone was here at all during the day.

But that didn't matter to me. Today was extraordinary; it couldn't have gone any better. With the doctor's yesterday, during their daily round, we decided that although it is still too early for me to have a weekend leave, I am allowed to leave the premises in accompaniment with someone else. And today marks that day. That very special day.

Today is the first time since the end of August that I inhaled fresh air. I was able to feel the cool, misty breeze brush gently across my face while I tried to stay hidden from the cold with my eskimo hat and fluffy scarf. What a relief it was to finally be outside again. It feels like a part of me that I haven't had since coming here has returned - now that I am able to go outside without fainting, freezing, or whatever other problem there might occur.

It was only fitting that today's outing would have to be extra special just because. So I went to go see the new James Bond movie Skyfall that aired three days ago here with one of my really close friends. To say it was fabulous and fantastic is an understatement. It was beyond anything I could imagine. It was sublime.

I loved every minute of today and will continue to do so tonight. Thankfully there is two other patients who decided not to take their night leave - even though they could've gone - and we are going to play board games soon. I'm excited for that as well.

Goodnight everyone, I hope you've all had a splendid day; just like me.

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.

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.

First Steps, Literally

Ever since I arrived here, I have been on strict bed rest - that would be a month on Friday. Almost one whole month of simply being forced to sit or lay in this lumpy old bed, bored out of my mind, simply waiting for the time to pass; like every single student in their least favorite class at school, where the teacher is trying his absolute hardest to explain the most boring, and pointless theories to the class, simply talking to the wall while the students anxiously stare at the clock every second, eagerly longing for the bell to ring, to be over and done with the subject for the time being.

I know that bed rest is necessary for me right now and I trust the experts here; accepting to not move away from my mattress for what seems like it’s been a decade. The only times I have ever really “left” my bed is with the help of a nurse - to go to my own personal toilet, like on of those “potty pots” for toddlers, making me feel like a four year old, as well as the two remarkable times that I was given special permission by the doctors to use the shower, making me overly ecstatic; like when you buy that last pair of those exquisite, trendy and currently fashionable Prada shoes that everyone so desperately craves - including me - at the designer sale on Fifth Avenue. I was given the approval to shower as my hair was in need of some serious deep conditioning and washing.

Although I have a “kitty wash” everyday, I was never able to wash my hair because of it. And trust me, only washing your hair that seldom is horrendous, something that I wish for no one, but I had to endure and learn to live with it. Luckily, my lovely mom always braids my hair into a different style when she comes for a visit - which, right now, is daily - making me know as Sissi - or as some people call her, Queen Elizabeth - by everyone here at the clinic. Sissi is a Bavarian Princess, wife of Emperor Franz Joseph of Austria-Hungary, who is known for her style, extravagance, sense of fashion and her famous lavish hairstyles.

Enough of my rambling on about hair and shoes, now back to the point of this entry. Today was the first day since September 7, which is roughly 28 days, that I was given permission at the daily round of the nursing team and doctors to take my first real steps. During the passage, they tested the strength in my legs and noticed that I am now finally capable of pushing against their firm grip against my lower leg - which was so incredibly hard to accomplish, but I managed, as I used all my strength, just like the hulk does.

I couldn’t do that when I arrived; nor did I have any feelings in my legs - I couldn’t feel anything at all when someone touched them, regardless of the strength, whether it was a stroke across my thigh or a firm grasp around my lower leg. But today, the doctors checked that as well and came to the realization that my condition regarding my legs has bettered a lot.

Even though I still have strict bed rest, I am now able to leave my haven, my bed that has been my home since September 7, with the accompaniment of the physiotherapist everyday for as long as I can withstand - as I get dizzy easily, even when laying down at times as my body isn’t used to much movement as a result of the bed rest.

So today, for the first time since September 7, I managed to take my first real steps, with the help of the physiotherapist. Together with her, we walked around the clinic - with me finally seeing the other rooms and everything else the station entails for the first time - for a good ten minutes. Despite the fact that I must’ve looked like an old grandma, as I was incredibly hunched over during the process - since the muscles in my legs have shrunken and started to deteriorate as a result of the lack of movement they have had to endure these past few weeks; that I was, and still am, unable to walk completely upright - I am proud of myself for what I have achieved.  I also took the tiniest steps, like a baby learning to walk, because I am so shaky on my feet. Additionally, the physiotherapist continuously held me around my waist to give me support and to ensure that I wouldn’t fall over -  as I got quite light-headed during the process - which, may I add, I didn’t. 

I’m sure it doesn’t seem like much to the regular person, but it was a huge step for me as I am now relearning how to walk, like a toddler attempting his first steps and eventually succeeding. Everyday I will become better at walking with the help of the physiotherapist that I will now see me daily.

I couldn’t be more overjoyed and full of glee.