Meetings, where are you? I understand this isn’t an issue many people bring up like alcoholism or narcotics, but I still have an issue and am seeking advice, support, and everything else anyone struggling is seeking. I have however found a group online that meets everyday but I have yet to catch a meeting. I’m hoping that the fact it is not set in one location, but all over that I will actually get to speak and listen to real stories. With that being said, I hope anyone struggling with a disorder like mine or anything at all, don’t be afraid to reach out. Mental health is very overlooked, but just like any other organ in our body we take care of, our brain is most important. We need to take care of it too. Let’s get together!I have high hopes for Thursday, but I’m obviously not getting my hopes up. I’m also not giving up.
Difficult roads often lead to beautiful destinations.
Well, shit happens, plans change, feelings get hurt, but all you can do is keep on truckin. I broke down more before recording my video. I will admit that the feeling of nobody attending these meetings is a hard pill to swallow and the overwhelming loneliness I felt sucked. I know I’m not alone.. I guess I can look back at my overthinking joke in my last post and laugh because I was right. I was going to show up to nothing. Let’s just take today as a small bump in the long road to recovery. ❤
Also.. video sped itself up somehow.. I don’t talk that fast nor have a mouse voice 🙂
In my previous post I mentioned writing about the eating disorder meeting that I possibly attend. Well, I have decided to attend my first meeting tomorrow. To say that I’m nervous is an understatement, I’m petrified. Am I worried about being judged still? Yes. Am I worried I’ll be the only person to show, therefor lowering my self confidence even more wondering where the people like me are? That’s just me overthinking.. but yes! Am I scared to speak out? Very much so. What I’m most scared of though, is recovering. That sounds confusing, I understand. This has been apart of me for so long that I don’t know any different. How does it feel to go about your day not worrying about how you look, not checking every mirror, eating the desert after dinner. Eating dinner. I know this is just a meeting, but to me it’s a possible positive step to a happier, healthier Morgan. I’ve been battling this for a decade now and know recovery doesn’t happen overnight or with one meeting, but it’s a chance to try something new and keep on fighting!
If anyone reading has attended EDA, please comment about your experience! 🙂 (calm my nerves) ❤
It has been a while since my last post. I can use me getting strep throat as an excuse, but it’s not one. I have realized that being so open with my disorder is a lot more difficult than I thought. Don’t forget that my family is reading this and finding out new things every post. I battle demons every day that I don’t write about. This ten year fight has caused me pain, worry, anxiety, ruined relationships and what hurts more than anything, is hurting the people I DO share the most with. The concern and worry for my health that they have. I appreciate anything and everything anyone has done to help me, but this isn’t your battle, it’s mine. I sometimes wonder if I will ever recover. I remain strong in hopes that I will someday be cured, but I don’t believe we are ever completely cured from anything, except for maybe the strep I got, but only after weeks of antibiotics. I am, however, planning the next steps to a recovery of any sort. Steps that don’t involve rehab. What I want people to understand is that the smallest imbalance in my life can lead to a huge downward spiral with my disorder, sometimes without me even noticing. It’s nothing I want to do for show or attention, it’s just the way MY brain decides to handle these situations. I’m resorting back to what I know, sort of as protection I guess. A safe place, but obviously not so safe. I hope my next post will be about the eating disorder meeting I attend. I hope my next post will be more uplifting, but this is reality. It’s not always positive.
Alright, let’s get straight to the point with this post. There are groups such as alcoholics anonymous and narcotics anonymous, but what about eating disorder anonymous? Obviously I’m not being so hush hush about my disorder, but I am just one person. What about the other thousands struggling? Well, ladies and gents there IS a group for people like us! EDA. I have decided to attend these meetings, even though large groups of people freak me out. I have encouraging friends and family I can talk to always, but what about speaking to a group of people who can really understand? People who know what it truly feels like. Can I get a sponsor to help me when I decide to skip that meal? Will I hear stories of triumph? Will I be the only person there? I sure hope not, oh no. I have no idea what I will be walking into honestly. The only thing that I am certain of, is that I will be in a room with people just like me. I’m excited but at the same time picture myself pulling into the meeting and running away. I won’t. This is a very new and different approach to beating this disorder, but I’m proud of myself for even thinking about giving it a shot. Here’s a cheers to recovery and having the courage to try something new. EDA here I come!
My therapist once explained to me how my eating disorder has turned into a sort of coping mechanism. A thought in my head that I’m in control of something when everything else around me seems to be falling apart. It’s not even a thought really anymore, it’s become second nature now. I don’t even notice I’m acting on these bad habits until it starts to show. We all handle life’s stressors differently, I just like to be extra. No really, jokes aside, why can’t my coping skills be simple? I can’t tell you why. I’m wired differently, we all are. Many people may imagine girls coping by eating tubs of ice cream on the couch while watching rom coms, or The Notebook. Not this girl and not my girlfriend passed out on the couch right now who is experiencing way worse than probably you and definitely myself. She would rather eat off brand gummy worms and read a good book, judging by what I saw this morning when I checked on her. Life right now is alright by any normal persons standards, but with just enough chaos to ignite a small fire in my disorder. It says it in the title of my page. I”m fighting every day, hoping to win!
We’re going to travel back in time a decade for this post to my first stay in rehab. This particular rehab was new and needed credentials, like all, to open and begin charging patients to stay. Myself and three others were the lucky free guinea pigs. My first step on the scale I weighed, I believe, 110. Being 5’9 I KNOW I’m underweight, but to hear a nurse mumble under her breath a grunting “eeck” is hurtful. Being the stubborn and outspoken (when I need to be) girl I was, I looked at her and asked “is something wrong?” I got no response, just a blank stare as if I should know I look gross. I remember everything about this place and the three others, aside from their names. Two older women and a boy my age who was obsessed with narwhals and skaa music. I grew close to them seeing as it was just us all day and night. I remember eating breakfast, lunch and dinner and being watched by nurses to make sure I ate. One of the older ladies had something wrong with her jaw so every single bite she took there would be a loud popping sound coming from her mouth. Imagine a faucet dripping while you’re trying to sleep, how annoying it sounds? That’s how I felt every time we sat down to eat. Not only did I not look forward to eating because of my disorder but now I really didn’t want too because I couldn’t stand to hear her chewing. The sound still haunts me today. My doctor was a nice man who was easy to talk to, but come to find out didn’t know what he was doing. He ended up prescribing me anti-depressants that you shouldn’t to a person with an eating disorder which led to future problems I’ll discuss in a later post. I had a black cat at the time named Kiki. She was my world and is even tattooed on my body today. I owned a black pair of cat slippers and would wear them around and as crazy as it sounds, I would sleep with one at night pretending it was her. I still own ONE of those cat slippers now. Our therapist, who later saw me during outpatient, was great I thought, until I showed up for my first visit and he couldn’t even remember my name or why I was in rehab in the first place. There was one day we were sitting around watching t.v. and one of the other older ladies was drooling with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Being a concerned human being I grabbed a nurse and was simply told, “It’s just her xanax, she’s fine.” I was dumbfounded. How is this helping her? What am I doing here? So, I decided I want out. I ate everything they gave me, smiled as much as possible and faked my way out of the front door. This wasn’t the only time I would do that either. I have more, even worse, horror stories. I’m not sure what the purpose of this post is, but to maybe give a little glimpse at what goes on sometimes that you don’t see. I know plenty of people have positive experiences and are rehabilitated properly. This, unfortunately, is just my story.