This is Real Life

What would happen if I gave up my ED? This is a question that I do not know the answer to because I have never even humored the possibility, but I am being more and more pressed to try. My treatment team is coming down hard on me at the moment, and I am going to have to commit to recovery. Can I just say that as I look back on my experience in treatment, I think of it fondly. As a matter of fact, as I write this, I am literally on a plane to go to a reunion for the Carolina House Alumni. It changed me and it healed me, but I must be clear about something: there is no part of me that wants to go back. I don’t want to be told what to eat, when to eat, how much to eat, reprimanded if I don’t complete 100% of a meal or snack, asked to consume an Ensure because I didn’t complete a meal or snack, followed to the bathroom every time I have to pee or take a shit (yes, that’s right people, you can’t even take a shit in private. I don’t even have kids and I still have to be watched in the bathroom, and if you know me, you know how many times a day I pee.), not allowed to chew gum, not allowed to have soda, not allowed to have more than 1 cup of coffee, not allowed to keep your bathroom supplies with you, feeling like you’re constantly talked about among staff members (because, lets be honest, you are. There are constant emails going out) and, not even last of all, but I have to stop somewhere, not allowed to have wine! This is a problem. Like really. wtf? As I am reflecting on these things, I am not sure why I look back fondly on treatment. Perhapse because it saved my life , or because it’s kind nice to not have to think, work, or keep up with politics; all you have to do is feel your feelings, eat 6 times a day, and knit.  Or maybe it's because I made some lifelong, unbreakable, inconceivable to those who haven’t been through it bonds. I cannot wait to see my friends this weekend, but I do not want to go back and make new ones. My nutritionist told me that she thinks that I can do this outpatient. I want to believe her. I have never been pushed this hard. This part of recovery is harder than treatment because that had an end date. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that was looking forward to leaving so that I could get back to my friend, ED. It’s hard to explain how exponentially frustrating this push pull is. Lauren wants Ed gone, but Ed wants to stick around, and he really is a scrappy motherfucker. I can’t seem to get him to leave. It’s like walking through a spider web, trying to shake it off, and constantly feeling that string on the back of your arm that you thought you had gotten rid of. I keep brushing it off, but it just won’t leave. Perhaps it never will, but it can get quieter, I just need to trust that it will. I have two jobs that are dependent on me, a husband who is unreasonably supportive, but would miss me terribly if I left again, and an acting career that is picking up, and I feel has the potential to go somewhere. I am hopeful that this weekend will rekindle a fire inside of me to fight for my recovery. I want nothing less. I am afraid though. So here’s to a hard reset this weekend, because theres no fucking way I’m going back there as a patient.

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