Late night reflections

Things I Miss:

-bananagrams. Anywhere.  At any given time.

-puzzles. Minus the 2000 piece Christmas puzzle that turned into recovery

-changing the white board every night

-Art Ellen rolling her eyes at me. Always. 

-decorating for Christmas with roommate #2

-staying up late laughing so loud with roommate #1

-random outbursts of Pretty Woman

-nightly forbidden hugs

-Furqan quoting Jerry McGuire to me during every single session

-John Mayer in the bathroom every morning

-Emily yelling SHARPS when someone dropped a pen

-Decorating Rigsbee for Christmas

-Doom and Henry and 4am and Hobbs

-helping Anna since it was always her first day

-the dog park across the street

-Home Alone 2. Yes.  I even miss that. 

-the song from the end credits of Rio

-the tiny spoon

-ramekins 

-skkkkkrrtt

-RO-DBT, MedEd with Joe

-Fun fects on Foster

-talking about space noodles more than any group of people ever should

-Nutella puppy chow

-patio time

-literally anything with Rachel, even when she made me cry, aka ALWAYS

-spa night

-ice packs at the ready

-Planet Fitness commercials on New Years and the reactions that followed

-scheduled nap time, specifically on Rigsbee

-the rare Stella appearance

-Maggie and Lindsay and Darby and Jaeda and Camila and all of the great TA's.

-the overusage of the word AND.

-Mandie's hippie outfits, Jillians scarves, Michelle's animal prints, Brianna's Lilly.

-JP and flannel Friday's

-being able to freely cry. Anywhere. At any time.

-being around the most encouraging group of people I have ever met

Things I Don't Miss:

-meal coaching

-eggs

-the feeling of impending doom when your whole team is in one room

-experiential dietetics

-table games

-increases

-increases from dietitians who aren't even your dietician

-dessert snack, aka banana pudding

-someone else flushing my toilet

-COS-DBT

-Veritas shake

-Phosphorus powder

-0400 vitals, although I do miss Donna's yellwhisper 

-Community meetings to discuss video games

-the great unit sweep of 2k19 where all of our boots were taken

-cold showers. In stalls. With other people around.

-hairy shower drains

-that damn NG tube and the sound of the pump

-the phrase "mindful" and "validate" 

-weekends without passes

-excessive online shopping

-Boost

-moving rooms 5 times

-the one salt packet rule

-the one cup of coffee rule

-being told to sit down

-having the emotional stability of a 2 year old

-being anxious all the time

Pruning

This might not make sense to anyone else, but bare with me. When I was a kid my dad planted a wisteria vine on the trellis in our backyard. It was beautiful and super green and grew these beautiful purple blossoms every year. It provided beauty and some shade. It had a purpose. Then, after a few years, the wisteria vines kept growing. It was still beautiful. Slightly overgrown, very green, but still pretty. Then over time, as we were sitting on the back deck, we noticed little sprouts coming through  the wood  floor. Then on the other side of the house, across the deck. Sprouts. Wisteria sprouts coming  through the wood and growing and breaking things. Eventually the vines of the wisteria grew through the metal chains of the porch swing, making it completely lose function, reliability, and strength. Yes, it was still beautiful, but it was out of control. Recently my dad tore down the wisteria. I remember feeling sad because it looked bare, and I knew I’d miss the pretty purple blooms. But for the sake of the porch and the house, it needed to go. It needed a fresh start.
That’s kind of  how I feel about my eating disorder. It felt beautiful at first.  It had a purpose and a function and I could still see that. The beauty and function outweighed the negatives. And then it didn’t. Then it grew out of control. And while it  may have appeared one way on the outside, it was tearing  apart everything inside of me. So I’ve spent the last few years, and in particular the last 7 months, tearing down those vines. Pruning. Starting over. And yes, there are days when I miss the  “beauty” and “function”, but I know in the long run it would have never worked. So while new beginnings are scary and sad and not always pretty,  sometimes they are the most  necessary.

209 days

I walk in the front door and tears immediately spill down my face. It's like a time capsule. For 7 months,  209 days, nothing here has changed. In fact, the only thing that dates the passing of time are the medical bills and mail piled up on the kitchen table. I wipe the tears and walk towards the kitchen. The color is different. Is this where the forks always went? I cringe as I think of all of the times spent opening the empty pantry with a hungry stomach, hoping to find something to fill me up without making me bigger. I shutter when I look at the fridge. Memories of diet sodas, energy drinks, alcohol, and low fat yogurt that would sustain me for days. Moving on.  My cute red couch. The couch I napped on multiple times a day while my dog jumped on me to go play. The couch that called to my depression and drew me in for hours at a time. Moving on.  I head towards the bedroom and hold my breath like a monster is going to jump out at me. I open the door. A perfectly made bed. Flowers and fresh sheets. I exhale. But only for a minute. The pink 5 pound weights sitting on my dresser call to me. I rush over and open the dresser drawer, knowing what I would find and hoping for a miracle. No such luck. A drawer full of laxatives, diet pills, and a blood pressure cuff, so that I could make sure I was still alive sometimes. Moving on. I open the closet. I know I shouldn't. I know I was told to wait. But I can't. I open the closet. Cat and Jack children's clothing hangs from the closet racks. All clothes that fit me 7 months ago. Each clothing item with its very own past memory. Not going there. Not tonight. At the end of my house tour,  I sit on the bathroom floor. 209 days gone. My eating disorder hell perfectly preserved within these 4 walls. 

But things have changed. I smile when I listen to my friends talk about their new house, or starting or a family, or the new drama at work. I smile because I am reminded that for the past 209 days, life has gone on. Part of that terrifies me. A life that has moved on without me. Friends and work and life that didn't pause for 209 days. But then I smile. I did not pause for 209 days. I have grown and stretched and cried and laughed and made new friends and set boundaries and had honest and deep and fun conversations. I have decorated hospital windows for Christmas and passed out Valentines to new friends. 

Home is here. And home is good and will be good. Change will happen and it will be scary. But not changing would be scarier. 

Home is here and I'm okay.