We were headed to lil man's speech today when I looked out the window and caught the glimpse of the new branch of McCallum Place passing me by. For a minute everything went quiet and I found myself thinking about that first day so many years ago that my parents dropped me off at McCallum Place in Stl for treatment I desperately needed. My anorexia and cutting were out of control, and the whole world could see it but me.
In that moment I remembered everything about that day, riding in the back of the truck wanting nothing more than to disappear before we pulled into the day suite parking area. I watched as my dad carried up a suitcase with all my belongings in it knowing that soon enough they would leave and I would stay to do the one thing I hated most...eat. I remember them going through everything, signing papers, telling me to say goodbye to my parents, and leaving me in a room where girls wrapped in blankets paced around me. That sat me at a table expecting me to eat and drink, and I wanted to run away. When I called begging to come home I was met with the voice of my calm therapist telling me that I would be court ordered to treatment if I tried to leave. I was a kid, a teenager who just wanted to get away.
I was in the program for a close the three months between residential and day treatment. The staff did everything they could, and they fought for me when insurance pulled the plug after relapsing in days. At the time I hated the whole institution, I didn't want any part of it, and I was too young and stupid to realize how good I had it. That kind of treatment is a blessing if you can get it, and I had it once. After that I spent all my days in hospital beds with tubes or in inpatient EDUs that are fare less nice than residential offers.
I'm coming up on seven years in my recovery from my eating disorder, and some days I still feel like that stubborn kid who sat at the tables in McCallum Place. Those memories still burn bright in my eyes. There was a time that I found comfort in my hospital bed, it was my normal, and I didn't mind other people taking control over things because left to myself I wouldn't have survived. Now the docs have to practically tie me to a bed to keep me in the hospital when my life is endangered. It is amazing how the years can change a person, and in some ways leave us completely the same.
Those eight years of my anorexia my life was saved by doctors, nurses, staff members of McCallum, Research, and University Hospital countless times. Sure, I didn't find recovery until I hit rock bottom, but if I hadn't had those places before that there is no way I would be laying next to my son right now as he drifts off to sleep. Everyone around me thought it was so simple to 'just eat' and the people that worked with me during those years never said those words to me. They sat at tables while I screamed at them, cried, pushed trays away, and they held me down and forced nutrition on me when I refused. People think that is barbaric, but had they not stepped in I would have starved until there was nothing left. Those feeding tubes and IVs, as much as they sucked they kept me alive in some of the darkest days of my life, just as they do now so I can be a mother to my son. If I hadn't had those people that believed in me, who refused to leave when I pushed them away my story would have a very different ending.
When I looked down at my son as we put McCallum in the review mirror he was smiling up at me, and I felt so grateful to be where I am. I am sick, my body is weak, but my mind is completely my own these days. I spend my time fighting to be here to see my son grow up, no longer am I one of the girls pacing around the room in a blanket hoping to burn off a few calories before someone makes me sit down. Life is hard, and I know that my ED lives inside me but I also know that I won't let her see the light of day again. The years of treatment taught me that you can have a whole village around you encouraging you to get better, but if you don't want it for yourself it isn't going to happen. Eight years of playing with my life, barely escaping death, in the end it was up to me whether or not I would stop. I waited for so long for them to fix me when all they could do was give me the tools to fix myself. I didn't even realize I had taken anything away from those many stays in treatment until I started my recovery and all of the things they had said to me started to come into practice. I could finally see their truth and accept that mine was flawed.
If you are struggling with an eating disorder I encourage you to seek help, any help you can get. No one deserves to live trapped like that, to have lies screaming at you every second of everyday. So many people can't understand what it is like to wage war against yourself, but it is the hardest battle I have ever fought. The lie is that you can't do it, you can't find recovery, but the truth is you can. No one can make the choice for you, in the end you decide.
Monday, June 27, 2016
Thursday, June 9, 2016
You Never Know When You May Be Someone's Hero
June 9, 2009 seemingly started like every other day. The world was waking up, turning on the news, drinking their coffee, and watching the last minute traffic report before they went off to the other room to get ready to head off to work. I wasn't much different, I had gotten out of bed, obviously I had no where to go, but I unhooked my tube feeds and I walked around the apartment making sure it was just me and the cat as usual. For some reason this day felt different for me, I grabbed a clean pair of pajama pants and tee shirt and umped in the shower. By this point everyone thought I had gotten it out of my system, I had already attempted to kill myself, it was seen as a cry for help, they same sure my blood work looked okay and with my assurance that I was an accident they let me go right back home with my back of pills all prescribed by the same shrink. The only problem is that they were all wrong, I was in the darkest place I had ever been in my life. One of my friends had spent every free moment she had watching me, saving me from myself, but she had to work eventually and I had to be left alone. She had begged the doctors not to send me home, begged them to see that I was in trouble, and none of them would listen.
So, here I was alone, 23 years old trapped in my anorexia covered in cuts, blaming myself for my mom's death, and dealing with horrible nightmares of the rape that had happened to me just a year before. No one had helped me face any of that, and I hurt so bad just to breathe. When I looked at the bag full of those pills and the thought came over me that I was going to crush all those meds and push them inside my j tube, a direct line to my intestine. And, contrary to popular belief there was no selfish thought in my mind, I thought that I was doing everyone a favor by taking myself out of this world, no one would have to worry about me, wouldn't have to wonder if I was eating, purging, cutting, or doing something else to harm self. It was almost like watching myself from a distance crushing up these pills one after another, knowing that the combination would put me to sleep and I would never wake up again, I would never disappoint my family and friends again...that was literally the lie that was repeating over and over in my head.
Once I had everything set up I sat on my bed and before I pushed that syringe down my tube I grabbed my razor and I drug it across my wrist, one last time I would believe the lie that my blood was my pain pouring out of my body, and that cut released endorphins that calmed me enough to pick up that syringe, open the J port on my tube, and I pushed a lethal dose of prescription medication into my intestine. I curled up on my bed hugging my teddy bear waiting for it to happen, and then my phone chimed loudly enough to cause me to jump. I picked up my phone, and with the meds already kicking in I couldn't make out much of what was said, but I knew it was from my friend Kelli who lived states away, who I only knew from facebook. She had sent me a txt to ask me how I was doing and let me know that she was there for me and she was worried about me. In my drugged brain I thought I txt her back that I was fine, but what she got was a jumble of letters that made absolutely no sense.
Now Kelli got that txt and there were a number of things she could have done with it, the first one being just ignoring me, thinking I was just being stupid or accidently sent her that jumble of letters. She could have thought something may have been wrong, but that it was none of her business and moved on with her day. She didn't do any of those things, she tore her room apart to find a letter I had written her months before to find my address. She got on the phone with the authorities and all the way from Montana got the ambulance, fire department, and police to my apartment in Missouri. The broke in my house and found me barely breathing laying on my bed, my blood pressure was barely registering by the time they got there...I was dying. They got me in the ambulance and I quit breathing completely, and by the grace of God tey brought me back. I came to enough in the trauma room to find a friend of mine telling me that she would be going to the courthouse with another friend to put me on a 96 hour hold, and then I was out again until an ICU doc came in and grabbed my face, I remember everything he said to me. "Andrea, you are very sick, you are probably going to stop breathing again and I will put a tube down your throat, I am not going to let you die, and when you wake up it will be in the intensive care unit tied to the bed if you fight me". With that I passed back out.
When I opened my eyes late that afternoon I felt like I had been hit by a truck, I had tubes coming out of everywhere, but when I looked at the window I saw the sun, the wind in the trees, and for the first time in so long I welcomed the pain because it meant that I was alive. God had saved me that day for some reason that I couldn't even have guessed at the time, He had a friend from states away that I had only known from FB check on me, and gave her the wisdom to call for help when most people would have just left it go. I should have died that day and I learned what the meaning of grace was first hand. That was the day I realized that I wanted to live, I didn't know how to do it how to make the pain bearable without starving and cutting, but I knew that I didn't want to die. It would be a long, slow battle up hill for me to find recovery, but here I am seven years later to the day in recovery with my beautiful fie year old cuddled up next to me sleeping.
There are no words that I can say to express the gratitude I have to Kelli, for seeing more than just a gibberish txt that most would have ignored. She is my hero, and I pray one day I can tell her face to face how thankful I am that she was in my life. You never know who God is going to place in your life to rescue you when you are too far gone to rescue yourself. I hope that by sharing this story more people take Kelli's actions to heart, that they don't blow off someone in need, that they follow their heart because they may just save a life. Hereos come in all shapes and sizes and can show up anywhere. You never know when you might be someone's hero.
So, here I was alone, 23 years old trapped in my anorexia covered in cuts, blaming myself for my mom's death, and dealing with horrible nightmares of the rape that had happened to me just a year before. No one had helped me face any of that, and I hurt so bad just to breathe. When I looked at the bag full of those pills and the thought came over me that I was going to crush all those meds and push them inside my j tube, a direct line to my intestine. And, contrary to popular belief there was no selfish thought in my mind, I thought that I was doing everyone a favor by taking myself out of this world, no one would have to worry about me, wouldn't have to wonder if I was eating, purging, cutting, or doing something else to harm self. It was almost like watching myself from a distance crushing up these pills one after another, knowing that the combination would put me to sleep and I would never wake up again, I would never disappoint my family and friends again...that was literally the lie that was repeating over and over in my head.
Once I had everything set up I sat on my bed and before I pushed that syringe down my tube I grabbed my razor and I drug it across my wrist, one last time I would believe the lie that my blood was my pain pouring out of my body, and that cut released endorphins that calmed me enough to pick up that syringe, open the J port on my tube, and I pushed a lethal dose of prescription medication into my intestine. I curled up on my bed hugging my teddy bear waiting for it to happen, and then my phone chimed loudly enough to cause me to jump. I picked up my phone, and with the meds already kicking in I couldn't make out much of what was said, but I knew it was from my friend Kelli who lived states away, who I only knew from facebook. She had sent me a txt to ask me how I was doing and let me know that she was there for me and she was worried about me. In my drugged brain I thought I txt her back that I was fine, but what she got was a jumble of letters that made absolutely no sense.
Now Kelli got that txt and there were a number of things she could have done with it, the first one being just ignoring me, thinking I was just being stupid or accidently sent her that jumble of letters. She could have thought something may have been wrong, but that it was none of her business and moved on with her day. She didn't do any of those things, she tore her room apart to find a letter I had written her months before to find my address. She got on the phone with the authorities and all the way from Montana got the ambulance, fire department, and police to my apartment in Missouri. The broke in my house and found me barely breathing laying on my bed, my blood pressure was barely registering by the time they got there...I was dying. They got me in the ambulance and I quit breathing completely, and by the grace of God tey brought me back. I came to enough in the trauma room to find a friend of mine telling me that she would be going to the courthouse with another friend to put me on a 96 hour hold, and then I was out again until an ICU doc came in and grabbed my face, I remember everything he said to me. "Andrea, you are very sick, you are probably going to stop breathing again and I will put a tube down your throat, I am not going to let you die, and when you wake up it will be in the intensive care unit tied to the bed if you fight me". With that I passed back out.
When I opened my eyes late that afternoon I felt like I had been hit by a truck, I had tubes coming out of everywhere, but when I looked at the window I saw the sun, the wind in the trees, and for the first time in so long I welcomed the pain because it meant that I was alive. God had saved me that day for some reason that I couldn't even have guessed at the time, He had a friend from states away that I had only known from FB check on me, and gave her the wisdom to call for help when most people would have just left it go. I should have died that day and I learned what the meaning of grace was first hand. That was the day I realized that I wanted to live, I didn't know how to do it how to make the pain bearable without starving and cutting, but I knew that I didn't want to die. It would be a long, slow battle up hill for me to find recovery, but here I am seven years later to the day in recovery with my beautiful fie year old cuddled up next to me sleeping.
There are no words that I can say to express the gratitude I have to Kelli, for seeing more than just a gibberish txt that most would have ignored. She is my hero, and I pray one day I can tell her face to face how thankful I am that she was in my life. You never know who God is going to place in your life to rescue you when you are too far gone to rescue yourself. I hope that by sharing this story more people take Kelli's actions to heart, that they don't blow off someone in need, that they follow their heart because they may just save a life. Hereos come in all shapes and sizes and can show up anywhere. You never know when you might be someone's hero.
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