"You look better"

Those three words you look better, or any other form that brings across the same message, such as you look healthier, has taken up a whole new meaning ever since my arrival down at the intensive station. I no longer dread those words.

Last year when I tried to recover on my own, with the help of my parents through the Maudsley Method, I couldn't bare those words. Hearing them - hearing that I was getting healthier; getting my life back in a sense - was pure torture because it meant that I was distancing myself from the anorexic thoughts, behaviors, etc. Back then I was still so intertwined in my eating disorder that the thought that I was slowly returning back to my old self was anything but pleasant news. Everytime I heard a remark such as "you look better" my world shattered into a million pieces - just like that of a little child when it discovers that Santa Claus and the Toothfairy don't exist - and the negative thoughts started racing in my mind. Comments like "You're a failure for gaining weight", "See, you heard them, you're getting fat" and "Don't listen to them, they don't know what's good for you. But I do, stop eating; you don't deserve it" would circulate in my mind for hours on end after a comment regarding my eating disorder was made that was supposed to be positive.

Now, everything is completely different.

When I hear those words now, instead of being in shock and pure hatred at the person who delivered those news, I am thrilled as it means that others can physically tell that I am getting better. Like I said before, I no longer dread those words; on the contrary, I am overcome with joy when hearing them. 

Goodbye Intensive Psychiatric Station, Hello 6B.

This morning I received the best news yet. One of the leading doctor's, my favorite - an added plus - came into the room, straight up to my bed with a big, ginormous grin on his face and said "There's a bed open for you." At first I couldn't register anything. A bed? I have a bed here...But then I remembered the talks I had with him and the other doctor's last week about possibly moving to a different station at the hospital - one that specializes in people with eating disorders - in three or four weeks when one out of the twenty beds opens up. They said three to four weeks; but now, it's tomorrow. It only took six days after our talks.

I can't believe that it's my last night here; feelings of schadenfreude fill the room. It's too early and it's too short notice, I think to myself. But then again, it's good because the station I'm moving is specifically for people with eating disorders and the therapy that is provided there is much more meaningful and helpful there. I just don't want to leave my roommates here, I've become so close with some of them. 

So, enough with the blogging, time to get packing.

Tomorrow I'll be writing from my new room, in the new station, surrounded by new people and new faces. 

Mom's Back, Fever's Gone

Sorry for being MIA these last two days, it's just that the flu had gotten the better of me - just like the villain's sometimes do in Disney Channel Movies, but in the end, the good always triumph. I did nothing but sleep all day; how exciting you all must think, I know I know - my life really couldn't be any more interesting at this point. But at least I was able to outsleep my flu; you could say. 

Through countless sweat seizures during both days and nights, and the many clothes changes that were involved, I was able to get rid of my temperature successfully. Trust me, usually I am all for changing outfits multiple times a day, that's any girls' dream come true; but doing so that many times and in those conditions was anything but enjoyable. The only positive is that my fever is now gone.

Now all that remains is that nasty cold, but that's doable. At least now I can finally move again, and enjoy life just like before that nasty little flu! Tomorrow is the first day that I will go back to having ergotherapy and physiotherapy, so I'm excited about that. I was still too weak today even though my fever was gone.

On another bright note, my mom arrived back from Japan yesterday! She came here straight from the airport, although she had a total jetlag and everything; she came straight here to see me, which shows how much she cares. I love her to death. Her support means the world to me. Having her here makes me so much happier; just knowing that she's close by.

Just a quick shout out to you mom, I love you more than you can imagine. You mean the world to me together with dad and Klemens. 

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.

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.