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.

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.

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.

Back to the roots

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

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

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

My Blood Count is Finally Stabilizing Itself

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

My blood count is finally beginning to stabilize itself.

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

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

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

Little Things

To start off, today's weather was simply astonishing - the bright and sunny atmosphere instantly created vibes of happiness and positivity that spread throughout this dull and dimly lit hospital room. Having the sun radiate through the window, that are decorated by the most decadent creations of window paintings and mandalas (obviously made by me, haha) that automatically made it a good start to the day for me, as I am one of the lucky ones to be next to a window! 

Regardless of the window, the day didn't falter. In fact, there were so many positive steps today that right now, I actually feel so calm and at ease -  even after all the food i've had to consume; that my body's been rejecting by giving me stomach cramps, headaches and feelings of sickness etc., but i've pushed through it. 

For three days now, i've been having 3 whole meals plus an additional amount via the nose tube, Today I had to eat the biggest portion of, excuse my language, fucking mac and cheese it's ridiculous; but I managed, and that's what counts.

And you know what? Right now, I couldn't give a shit about that, all the food I've eaten and everything related to that. I feel amazing and it's 9 pm. At this very moment, calories, food, anything regarding that matter, is no where near my mind. I think that for right now, I've conquered that little demon inside of me. We'll see how long that lasts. 

I can't be too optimistic as recovery isn't a happy-go-lucky positivity trail that one joins but it does come with ups and downs, just like a rollercoaster does at your favorite amusement park. Currently I seem to be on the highest high I've had so far, I just hope that it lasts.

We'll see what tomorrow brings, but I'm already prepared for a good day because my favorite caretakers and doctors are here :3 Plus my mom is coming.

WHAT UP.

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. 

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.

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.

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.