I Did It!...And Why Does Adam Levine Have Blond Hair?

First off, I'm watching "The Voice" and wondering...why the devil does Adam Levine have blond hair? Blond hair doesn't work on Adam Levine. Anyway, I FINISHED INTENSIVE OUTPATIENT TREATMENT (IOP)! I did it! I did it! I did it! AND I finished two weeks early! Who would have guessed I would finish that early, yet I stayed in PHP so late? Kind of funny, really. Regardless, I AM DONE WITH PROLONGED TREATMENT! Now, I'm outpatient level..HOLLAAAAAAAA! That means I'll go up to Children's once a week or every two or three weeks (I'll find out tomorrow at my appointment how much they want to see me). I'm so excited! The only thing that sucks, though, is that I'm still weight restoring which I don't understand. Like, I feel great, my vitals are good, my thoughts are fine, and everyone tells me I look good, so I really don't get why they want me to continue to gain. I asked my therapist about it, and she said I'm only in the 25% of my weight range based on the normal weight range and BMI of people my age and height, which basically means I'm on the small end of the spectrum when it comes to other people with my body type. That was very reassuring. A couple days before that, though, I had a tough moment that put me in a funk for a couple of days. I went to the store with my mom and tried on a size of jeans that I would usually fit it, and they wouldn't go past my butt. It really made me upset about still having to gain weight. I grieved over it because I felt like I had worked so hard for so many years to get to that small size (mind you, by "work" I mean starving myself and exercising to the point of exhaustion), and it just sucked to have to go up. On top of that, I feel like my body is disproportionate because my legs are bigger than my top half. After a day or so of wallowing in bad body image, I bucked up and got over it. That just goes to prove that even when God delivers someone from something, there can still be some pushback.

With that said, I do believe that God has delivered me from my eating disorder. While I still have the fear of being fat (which has been with me throughout my life because I was overweight as a kid), it doesn't hinder me from eating and I'm not afraid of food. Praise God: I ate cake 5 times in one week. Cake is good. I actually eat food that I've been so afraid of eating for years and enjoy it without feeling guilty. I'm so excited about everything going on! One of the biggest things I'm excited about is being able to eat whatever I want without following a meal plan, and without restricting or compensating. I'm excited to start working out to be in shape and fit (I am so out of shape, it's not even a laughing matter). I want to be able to run because I want to feel strong and the sense of freedom I imagine runners feel. Well, I always imagine myself running through a forest in Forks, Washington in a dress like a vampire from "Twilight", and that seems pretty great. I'm just so excited about everything my body will let me do when it's nourished and healthy, but I have to wait until the doctors tell me I'm allowed to do all of that, which is kind of hard since I have no patience at all. I've also really been being affected by negativity, criticism, and judgement. I've been surrounded recently by people who judge other people or say mean things about them, and that makes me really upset. I hate to say it, but I don't step up to defend those people because I'm afraid of confrontation and basically a pansy because I just want everyone to like me. That's something I need to work on. I've also been getting really fired up about when people talk about food, and the matter of "healthy." I really hate society and it's message of "health." One of the dieticians at treatment said something very thought provoking: "It'll be interesting to see how in ten years the obesity rate goes down, but the rate of eating disorders goes up." It's so true! The media is constantly pushing no fat, low carb, whole wheat, "healthy" everything, and as it turns out, that's not right. It's very frustrating when you've learned the truth about something, but everyone else around you is taught something completely different. They've already got what they believe programmed into their brain, so there's practically no way to turn it around. I'm not saying that you shouldn't have a "healthy" diet, but that doesn't mean you should restrict yourself from food that you like that may not be society's current view of "health." Ugh, why is it like this? Why? And for that matter, why does society have to push this image of muscular, fit, skinny, "I need to workout two hours a day and do detox cleansing drinks" type of people? So frustrating! Okay, I'm done venting. When I was in PHP, mom and I started going out to breakfast every Wednesday, and we discovered my two new favorite restaurants: Tasi and The Angry Baker, two places in Columbus. SO divine. LOOOOVEEE it. Tasi makes an incredible version of my favorite food, greek yogurt and granola, while the Angry Baker makes their own rendition of it called "Three Bear Porridge." I could live off of those two dishes. They have other good food, but those are my faves fo sho. I also really love this place in town called Carpe Diem. They make meal replacement/protein shakes, which are also heavenly. I could live on these three foods. I mention all of this because I wanted to try these places for the past few years but never did because I was too afraid to. I say this because I rejoice whenever I get to go to these places because I actually enjoy the food and leave without feeling guilty. This is all because I did treatment, which has blessed me in so many ways. Not only did it save my life, but I met incredible people I'm glad to call my friends, an incredible and inspirational woman as my therapist who was the best I've ever had, and by the power of God, I have been delivered from my eating disorder. While I'm sure that I'll always have that fear of being fat, I don't think about or want to not eat to make sure it doesn't happen. I want to live my life free of fear of food. There are too many things in my life that I have to be excited about: my favorite restaurants, school starting in a little more than a month, being fit and strong, and being closer to the Lord. I praise God because this is all because of Him. Thank you, God. Now if only you could work with Adam Levine's hair, that would be fantastic because I do not know what is going on with that...

Praise God and Chocolate Milk

I FINALLY GRADUATED! Last week, I finally ended my treatment in PHP! 5 weeks later than expected, but I did it! Wanna know the best part? I actually feel better. I actually feel....happy. I haven't actually felt truly happy since I was in 8th grade. I don't know what exactly caused it, but I finally just started to feel happy about 4 weeks ago. I attribute it to the power of prayer and God...so thank you to everyone who has kept me in their prayers these past four years. I ended Partial last Friday, one day early believe it or not. Why? Because I got lucky and was allowed to road trip down to Tennessee and see my friends at Lee, which was great. I got back to Ohio on Sunday, and the next day, I began the next stage of treatment...IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). Now,I go to the Nationwide Children's Hospital 4 days a week for 3 hours instead of 6 days for 10 hours. Side note: I haven't actually been in a legitimate hospital; I've been in the eating disorder clinic that is part of the hospital. Since I have more day time now, and since I'm not in school, I returned to work at my seasonal job at the local dairy bar. It's a very strange feeling. Like, I don't want to be back in PHP, but it feels weird trying to adjust to a more "normal" life. I mean, I've been doing the same thing for the past 9 weeks. It's just...so different. Like I said, I don't want to be in PHP, but there is something to be said about the structure of it all: there was so much security and rigidity in it so I wasn't concerned about when or what I would eat or how I would get it all in, since it was all done for me. Now, I have to come up with my own meals, and it's tricky trying to fit it all in. I'm really just struggling with what to eat. Praise God: I'm not struggling with the act of eating, I just struggling to make sure I get it all in. I also actually feel really good about myself right now. I was trying on clothes at Goodwill (my favorite) on Saturday, and it was the first time I saw myself in a full length mirror in a while. I walked out feeling incredibly confident and happy. I felt like I looked so good, and people keep telling me how good I look. However, I'm still on a weight gaining meal plan which makes me slightly anxious and nervous. Like, I feel like I look so good now, so I don't want to gain more. If people think I look good now, what will they think when I continue to gain weight? I know that those are really just eating disorder thoughts, but they are pretty challenging. Oh! I also have only had about 3 eating disorder type thoughts in the past 4 weeks (which is a big deal because I would usually have them almost every minute of every day). Now, I'm working on accepting myself and my body no matter how it looks and just trying to trust that I'm going to look and be fine in the end. I've learned a lot about myself and life in these past few weeks. I've learned that it really is me and not my eating disorder that doesn't like fries. It really is me that wants to be vegetarian because I simply don't like the way meat tastes. I don't have to be a size 0 because that is so relative. Jeans are weird because one size in a certain brand is completely different in another brand. I really love chocolate milk and I want to be one of "those people" who drink chocolate milk all the time. I'm kind of a home-body, and I really don't like that. Treatment has gone by super quick, and before you know it, IOP will be over and then I'll be in summer classes. I have so much to live for that's more than what's going on right now. More importantly, there are bigger things out there than just me or what I eat or how I look. Praise God, because I don't want the chocolate milk I just drank to be the biggest issue in the world.

Thanks and Promises

I'm currently in my 6th week of PHP treatment... a.k.a. three weeks more than what is intended for the program. Not because anything I or my parents have or have not done, but simply because my B.M.I. isn't where it needs to be. BUT today I found out the date that I will be done! April 5 is my last day! What that means is that I have two more weeks of treatment, making my length of stay a total of nine weeks...5 weeks more than what is intended. The most surprising part...I'm actually okay with it. I cannot tell you why or what happened, but since Monday, I've been in a great mood. It could be because I had a good weekend, or because my meds are finally starting to work, or maybe even everything has just been going my way. Nah. Honestly, I feel like this mood shift has changed as the result of all of the prayers I am receiving. I know that people are praying for me all over the country, and I believe in the power of prayer. And it's working. I've been in more a state of acceptance, happiness, joy, reduced anxiety, and just overall goodness. It's really nice to feel this way. So, I just wanted to say thank you: thank you to everyone who has been praying for me. Thank you to everyone who has been rooting for me and my recovery. Thank you to my Dad for sitting through the tedious and lackluster family sessions every week. Thank you to my Mom for overcoming her fears and paranoia and going out to breakfast at places I want to try. Thank you to all of my friends who have stood by my side through this all, and who listen (or read, rather) to all of my pages of texts complaining about my meal plan or my life. Thank you to everyone. I plan on staying better. Really. This time I mean it. Last night, as I got dressed after taking a shower, I had a conversation with my stomach and I promised it that I wouldn't starve it again, that I would treat it right, and that I would love it the way that it is. And I make the same promise to everyone: I promise that I will feed myself and I will do everything I can to fully recover. I believe that God has given me this chance to recover for a reason and I'm going to do it this time. I may complain, have my off days, or slip up, but I WILL NOT give up. I will fight this until it's dead. God will prevail over this ailment and I will be delivered. I may be in a four week program for nine weeks, and that may suck a bit, but if it means I have a better chance of living up to my promise, so be it.

So Much For 4 Weeks

GOOD NEWS: My 4 weeks of treatment in the PHP program are over! BAD NEWS: My 4 weeks of treatment in the PHP program ended last Saturday, yet I am still in treatment in the PHP program. Yes, I'm still in treatment. As I sat in one of the rooms where we spend most of our time here last Monday, I saw my therapist, doctor, psychiatrist, and dietician walking down the hall with intent to my therapist's office. When I saw this, I automatically thought, "Oh crap. This has to do with me." Moments later, my therapist came to me, and asked if I could come with her. I swear I'm a friggin' psychic. I sat down, nearly snuggling in the small office, with the members of  my treatment team, as they told me that my BMI wasn't where it needs to be for me to move on to a lower level of treatment that usually comes following the 4 weeks in the PHP program. They then told me that I would be in treatment longer, but how much longer they did not know, and that would be determined on a week by week basis. I left the room feeling very emotional, yet very unsurprised and very uncaring about everything. Every weekend that I 've been in this treatment, I've lost weight over the weekend. Mind you, it is always miniscule amounts, but it's still a trend that isn't supposed to be happening. I don't really know why it happens exactly. Well, I kind of do...I usually don't get all of my exchanges in and I do some sort of physical activity that I don't always do on the weekdays while I'm in treatment. Still, I usually only miss one or two exchanges, and the "physical activity" I do includes hanging pictures on my wall or walking up the stairs to get to the bathroom or my room; so it's not like I'm doing anything drastic. I am amazed, though, at the fact that with all of the food I'm eating and little activity I do I can lose weight, while there are people who work out and eat very little and hardly lose an ounce. I'm in a state of "hypermetabolism" (I've discussed this in a previous post), which means my metabolism is so high it just burns up everything it takes in quickly. I'm on a higher meal plan because of it. And I am scared to stray from my meal plan. The way I see it is I'm already eating so much food, why should I eat more than that? I'm scared to eat more than my meal plan says, in short. You would think that in this metabolic state I would feel like I can eat whatever I want with no fear because my body will just burn it up; but sadly no. Also, being on a higher meal plan has its pros and cons. Pros are that I'm excited that I get to eat so much (which sounds dumb as I write it out). Cons are that it makes it very difficult and stressful to get everything in when I'm at home. My psychiatrist increased the dose of the anxiety medication I'm on last week. It's supposed to make me less anxious about food, eating, and my parents being in control of my food. I've noticed the medicine has made me more willing to give up control to my parents, but I'm still very hesitant to do so. Giving up control to my parents has been the biggest struggle in this whole process so far. Within the five weeks of treatment, I really haven't done as I'm supposed to and given up complete control. It's very dificult for me to do. See, I trust my parents with everything...except food/portions/etc.. They don't know enough about it or what "normal" eating looks like for me to be able to give them complete trust and control, so that's where my problem lies. I really am trying to give up control, it's just a very hard battle. While the control battle is proving to be one of my greatest challenges, so is the whole battle of recovery. I've learned that through the re-feeding process (which is what I'm currently going through) there is a great deal of anxiety and depression that occurs within the patient; oh, is that the truth. Anxiety in that I'm anxious about trusting my parents with food or what I eat. Depression over still being here, not being in school, not having anything to look forward to, and just general feelings of depression. But the thig is, I don't feel depressed; I honestly feel happy, but I feel like a cloud of depression is covering that happiness. A lot of it stems from not having anything to look forward to (since I'm not in school, and even when I go back to school, I'm only going across the street to the branch), but when I put that into perspective, I only have like two months before I can start Summer classes and working again. Right now, it just feels like the whole recovery thing sucks. It's so hard and frustrating. Between the meal plan and not knowing when I'll be done with treatment, I'm so stinkin' frustrated and stressed out. On top of all that, my clothes are starting to get tighter, and my stomach is starting to stick out. Believe it or not, that doesn't bother me as much as one would think because I know it's part of the re-feeding process (also discussed in a prior post). All of the weight initially gained in the process accumulates in the stomach because it wants to protect the vital organs, but it will eventually re-distribute to the rest of the body as long as you continue to eat normally. I'm really really REALLY hoping this proves to be true because right now I feel like I look pregnant. In the past five weeks, I've been through a plethora of emotions. I go from depressed, sad, hopeless, happy, excited, disappointed, cheerful, annoyed, frustrated, overwhelmed, stressed, scared, and pretty much every emotion under the sun. I've been in states of "woe is me" to being helpful and offering insight to others. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be in treatment, and that's frustrating. I don't know how much longer I'll have to deal with the eating disorder, which is more frustrating. I'm still trusting that this is all happening for a reason, God is using it for a greater good, and God knows what he's doing with all of this. I feel very indifferent and uncaring about staying in treatment longer because I feel like it must be what I need and it is God's will. I'm done trying to figure out God's will for my life, and I'm done trying to fight it to try and have my will be done instead of His. I've adopted a sort of "go with the flow" sort of attitude. I still struggle, and I still fight for control. The difference now, though, is that I know when to put my guard down and give into what is best for me. Hopefully, that's what I'm supposed to do, and that's what will get me through this disease.

The Toilet At My McHome

DISCLAIMER: This blog-post contains poop-related material. Those suffering with fecal-phobia use caution.

On Monday, I started going to PHP (partial hospitalization program) in Columbus. Going in, I wasn't expecting much of anything different than what I already know from past treatments, so I wasn't really looking too forward to it; BUT I kept an open mind. Essentially, the program is exactly like residential but I go home at night. The day went well: I ate all of my meals with no problems (they never are in treatment), I participated in groups (which I loathe), and I made some new friends with the three other kids in the program (I'm also the oldest of the group). As the day came to a close, my stomach started feeling funky. I figured it was because I was full or my stomach was starting to hurt from all of the food I had consumed that day, but that also struck me as odd because I had been through treatment numerous times where I'd have to eat just as much (if not more) food, and I never had problems with it. Nonetheless, I carried on with the day into "wrap-up group" with the parents who pick us up at the end of the day. Mom picked me up, and as we drove home in the car, I had to shut my eyes and sit there. My stomach was in a great deal of stress. I felt constipated and that wasn't any fun at all.  When we got home, I took my coat off, and went straight to the couch where I fell asleep for the rest of the night. My stomach was in so much pain that I couldn't do anything else but sleep. I woke up the next morning around 6 and went straight to the bathroom. SURPRISE! I had friggin' diarrhea. What a way to greet the day. I ended up going to the bathroom 3 times before we left home to go to Columbus around 7. All of the way there, my stomach was upset. In my day at treatment, I ate all of my meals with difficulty because my stomach hurt so badly. I also went to the bathroom at any chance that I had, and I went every stinkin' time. I looked like death, on top of it all. I met with my doctor, and he said it was a stomach virus of some sort (which made sense because my dad had the exact same symptoms the week prior...thanks a lot, Dave). He didn't give me any medicine because he said the virus needed to come out, and the only way it would was through defecating it on out. He did order me Gatorade, though, because apparently diarrhea causes dehydration. The day went on with a great deal of stress and pain, but I pushed through. And then dinner happened: a soppy joe, chips and salsa, vanilla pudding, milk, and grapes. The thing about eating in an eating disorder program is that you have to eat everything, 100 % of what you're given, even if you're sick. Dinner was a nightmare. I could barely eat a tablespoon of food without my stomach getting unspeakably painful, and here I was downing more food than most "normal" people eat. Ugh. I started shoveling it down because I wanted to get it over with and not think about it or the pain I was going through. I'm pretty sure I can never eat vanilla pudding or salsa again without getting sick. I don't know if it was because of the dehydration or what, but by the time that I got to the sloppy joe, my mouth literally would not produce enough saliva for me to chew my food. With the assistance of the wee-bit of milk that I had left, I managed to finish the entire meal...Ouch. As we went into wrap-up group, everyone noticed how bad and sickly I looked as I walked into the room after going to the bathroom (AGAIN).  I could hardly speak because of my stomach. That was not what I would consider to be a "pleasant dining experience" in the slightest.

After the "fun" day at treatment, mom and I headed over to the Ronald McDonald house approximately three minutes away. I've decided to call this my "McHome" or "McHouse" for the time being, since I am basically living there for the month. We checked in and went straight to our room. I promptly claimed my bed, wrapped up in about 30 blankets and my plushy, yellow bath robe, and fell asleep. Like the night before, I was freezing and being tortured by my stomach, so I again had no choice but to sleep. I woke up later around 9 because (despite my stomach issues) I had to have a snack. Luckily, all that it had to be was 4 oz. of orange juice, so Mom and I sat in the kitchen area downstairs as I drank it and she told me about her day. We returned to the room, and I went back to bed, feeling like my stomach would explode. I woke up around 1:30 and had to go to the bathroom (big surprise) where I was for about half an hour. There really is nothing more fun than sitting on the toilet, especially in the middle of the night.

The following morning, I woke up to a new day with less stomach pain and a lot of snow outside. We got ready for the day, and went downstairs to see about breakfast (it was Wednesday, and on Wednesdays you have breakfast at home instead of at treatment). Mom got a call from work saying that the snow caused them to delay opening until 11, so she had more time to get ready and take care of me. In the kitchen area, we saw one of my new friend's who is also staying at the Ronald McDonald house. He and his mom were also making breakfast, and they told us that they got a call from the program saying they were cancelling treatment for the day because of the weather. We realy lucked out on seeing them because we recieved no call, no message, no pony express...nothin'. I could have ended up over at the stupid facility alone. BUT that was not the case, and I'm pretty grateful that we saw them when we did. Having no time restrictions now, mom and I took the shuttle over to the hospital across the street to get breakfast. I had my exchanges for the meal, along with my stomach issues. I got something that I thought met it, but also wouldn't make my tummy troubles worse. I finished most of it, but then my stomach started to hurt again and I couldn't finish. Mom recieved a call from work again, but this time to tell her that they were cancelling her work all together that day because of the weather conditions. So we had the whole day to do whatever we wanted...which was very little because I was sick, she developed a headache, and no one was technically supposed to be "driving" or "out" because of "dangerous weather conditions" (psh, girl please). The rest of the day was spent sleeping, laying around, watching "Let's Make A Deal" and "The Price Is Right," eating very little to appease my stomach, making valentines in the craft room, and being bored. My stomach hurt, but not as bad as it had because I wasn't forcing food down my throat. Plus my diarrhea subsided, so in some regards, I was living what we like to call "the dream life." The next day at treatment, I ate breakfast, anxious that it would upset my stomach and send me into more excruciating pain. What do you know? It didn't! I went on to eat all of my meals with hardly any pain, and that was a good thing.

Being sick this week was such a struggle. Like, how lucky am I that I get a virus that makes eating a death sentance in the midst of being force fed a lot of food? #AWESOME. Besides that, though, I spent a lot of time coloring or doing wordsearches because I had nothing better to do. I get bored WAYYYYY too easily. I can't really stop and do one thing without getting impatient and anxious, so relaxing and I are not friends. This is not a good equation for me right now, and it's sent me into a bad depression. The fact that I have nothing to do bothers me a lot. I miss being a student. I could use my time to study or do homework, but no...I just have to sit and do puzzle books. Mom and I were driving around on OSU's campus the other night, and as I watched all of the kids walking around, going into restaurants, being with their riends, and doing other things that college kids do, I became indredibly bummed. I just kept thinking, "that should be me." That should be me. This eating disorder has made me lose friends, family, my passions, my personality, my sense of caring, it's made me bitter and impatient and mean...and now it's taken away my sense of "normalcy" in that of being a student. My entire life is "off-track" so to speak because of the dumb thing.

In my devotion yesterday, it spoke of the story in Matthew where Peter asks Jesus to let him walk on the water to join him, Jesus allows it, Peter starts, Peter freaks, and Peter sinks, then Jesus asks him why he asked for something and then didn't trust him to do it. Still, Jesus was there for Peter the rest of his days on Earth and made him more than he could have ever have dreamed of  being. This really spoke to me because I'm the same way, especially right now. I constantly ask God for help, and he always gives it to me. Sometimes I may try to do what he's helping me to, but I always end up doubting and not trusting God, so I fall and end up back to square one. Regardlesss, God is still there for me, waiiting to help me when I am ready to trust him 100%. I've asked God for 4 years to help me end this battle; God has given me treatments, meal plans, people, and countless other resources to help me overcome it; I often start acting on or with these things, but I doubt that they will work or I get scared of the unknown outcomes, and I end up falling again, which is why I'm where I am today. Even though I've doubted God and haven't trusted his plans for me (which I know isn't good), he takes me back and will continue to help me until I do respond. He's always going to be there for me. That's the cool thing about God: He is constant; while humans would get impatient and sick of trying, God never does because he loves us that much. I'm hoping that this time, I do respond to God's call for me to recover because I am so sick of dealing with this, and hurting the people who love me by forcing them to watch me go through it. I want to live my life, and do good things for the Kingdom of God, and be a student, and go to school, and travel, and help people, and stay out late, and do silly shenanigans, and have a personality, and all that I really want...freedom. I don't want to feel guilty everytime that I eat, or get anxious or stressed out over food, or be mean to people, or be so depressed. Those outcomes are worth more than the outcomes that my eating disorder promises me, so I must keep them in mind.

This was a pretty "poopy" week overall, both literally and figuratively. It actually really sucks right now, but I'm okay with it. I was never promised that I was going to be happy all of the time, or that treatment would be easy. I just have to keep my goals and hopes and dreams in mind to pull me through, while trying to take each day as it comes and learn something from it, even if that lesson comes while on the toilet.