Helllo, Denver

Hello anyone who still actually reads this! I'm sorry for not posting in forever and a day. I would like to say "I've been busy," but in reality, I've been lazy and caught up in myself. I feel like a lot yet little has happened or changed since I last posted, but things certainly have changed. I want to try and tell you about my life since my prior post... So, my first semester back at Lee was...okay. Like I said before, I was having a hard time with not having new friends and not knowing what I wanted to do. Well, that was a little more than a hard time apparently. In my Foundations of Western Culture class, we were assigned to read "The Iliad" and I did not read "The Iliad" because I had a hard time focusing and understanding the language...that is until a Friday when I realized "Oh....I have a test over this next week." I then decided to take it upon myself to read the entire Iliad in two days. Bad. Choice. I did nothing but read. I started getting dizzy, having headaches, shortness of breath, and my heart would beat really fast. That Sunday, I woke up at like 4 in the morning with chest pain and my breathing was off, so I texted my dad (who I knew would be awake), and told him what was going on and what to do. He advised me to go to the health clinic when it opened (if I didn't think the ER was necessary), so I did. They told me it was anxiety and if it happened again or persisted to go to the ER, which I ended up doing later that night. They also told me that it was anxiety (after making a snarky, rude comment about eating that ticked me off). Later, I looked up anxiety and anxiety attacks, and as it turned out, I was experiencing my first REAL (I faked one my sophomore year to get out of golfing an 18-hole golf tournament) anxiety attack. Apparently my weekend with "The Iliad" provoked a full on panic attack, which ended up lasting about two weeks on and off. Frickin' Homer. I researched anxiety more, gave up/tried to give up caffeine, and there was that. I had BAD anxiety. My new found anxiety was completely new to me and I didn't know how to deal with it. On top of that, I was in a biology class that made me want to throw and break things, the rest of my classes were slightly challenging (but I enjoyed them), and I was just stressed. I interviewed for a group on campus called S.W.A.T. (Students With A Testimony), and I LOVED the people and the ministry in itself (essentially, they lead small groups on weekend retreats for kids from 6th-12th grade). I made it into the group, and I was so stoked for my new friends and the opportunity. The same week as the interviews, I went to talk with an academic advisor in the business program, told him what I kind of wanted to do with my life, and asked if that program would work for my goals, and he said it would be perfect for it. The next day, we had something called "Celebration" to celebrate all of the accomplishments and donors and people and what not of Lee, and all of the students were required to go listen to one out of a ton of speeches being given by people that Lee brought into speak. I went to a speech from this dude who opened a coffee shop and travels around the world to source the beans. I don't know if I ever wrote about the idea I had last year of a career, but one thing I had toyed around with was opening a coffee shop (like Starbucks, or River Road for those in the 740), travel to 3rd world countries, make it a mission field for Christ, source the beans there, and then travel back to the states and sell the coffee in the shop and tell the stories of the people. Hearing that talk confirmed it. I had to do my coffee shop thang. I declared my major as Business Administration with an emphasis in International Business as soon as I could and I was so excited for my life and all of the opportunities and blessings God was giving me...and then I got a call from mom... The same day as the Celebration, I received a very frantic phone call from my mother, who I could tell was balling her eyes out. All she said was "Your dad called the health clinic, and he told me what you weigh. We're coming to get you and you're going to treatment." My heart stopped. I was devastated. I spent the next two hours talking to my mom and my dad on the phone, convincing them that I was okay. My parents, being the loving yet enabling people they are (sorry, but you know that it's true), let me stay on the condition that I would eat and go to the health clinic every week for weigh-ins. Of course, I agreed to it but didn't follow through. Ah yes, the eating thing...well, that didn't happen. I would eat, but VERY little and nothing of substantial caloric count. There was a day where I decided to just say "eff it" and I decided to feed my body what it wanted and just eat what I wanted; that ended quickly The only thing that I would consume before noon was coffee, vegetables for lunch, and then something like cereal and soy milk or vegetables and a veggie burger for dinner, copious amounts of diet soda to satisfy my hunger through the night, and then always something before bed. Carbohydrates from grains became my biggest fear, calories became the enemy, and I continued to spiral. I experienced my first "binge" on Halloween day after I hadn't eaten anything but carrots all day. I know it was a binge because I completely lost control and was almost out of my body yet shoving fistful after fistful of Fritos, candy corn, and other candies into my mouth with no real reason to. As I was doing it, I would tell myself "I'm just feeding myself what my body wanted," but it soon became "You're so stupid," "guilty," "how could you have done that?", "fat", "moron," etc. I hated myself. I told my friends that it was happening and asked for them to pray for me. I called my dad on the verge of tears. I told myself to restrict and make up for it the next 3 days, but after those 3 days were over, the guilt remained and I continued restricting the best I could. I went to my best friend/roommate's house for Thanksgiving and ate little to nothing. It was the strangest and "best" Thanksgiving of my life because they didn't have a normal Thanksgiving meal, so I got away with eating vegetables for dinner. My eating disorder behaviors had gotten worse and they were bad while I was on campus. I ordered skim milk and sugar free syrups in my coffee specialty drinks, I HAD to watch them make it to ensure that it was made in the right way and if not it had to be re-made, I had to customize all of my foods to make them have the least calories possible, and the list goes on. My eating disorder had taken over, and I didn't care. I didn't care that I was destroying myself. I didn't care that I was light-years away from God (but He was always right besides me). I didn't care that, from hundreds of miles away, I was destroying my family. I didn't care that my speech was beginning to slur, I wanted to sleep all of the time, my feet and hands fell asleep very easily, my ears started to ache in a way that they never had before, and I was freezing allllllllllllll of the time. My hair never fell out, though, so there's a plus. When exam time came around, I came to a point where I just didn't care and I wanted to go home. I wanted the stress of eating and spending money and life to be over, so I didn't care at all what my grades were. I ended up getting 3 A's, a B-, and a C (in biology, which I was NOT expecting), so I guess I did well despite my deteriorating self. 3 of my absolute, best of the best ever best friends came home took a little road trip to Ohio with me to spend a few days exploring my fatherland. It was so much fun. When they left, I was so upset because I wanted to be back at Lee with them and not at home. I LOVE my friends so much! We grew so super close over the semester. We made plans to get a house together next year, plans for our weddings, and our lives were in the palms of our hands and we could be together through all of it. The rest of my break was okay. I didn't do much because I didn't work, but I made plans, which stressed me out to the EXTREME. I had to make sure that I did all of the things that I planned to do with my friends from back home. A lot of what I planned centered around food and eating, so I would have to plan my days around that which added stress. If I went out for coffee with a friend in the morning and got a muffin, I'd have to make sure I could get around having other grain-type carbs the rest of the day; stuff like that. I slept with my mom the entire time (despite Ringo [my dog] trying to guard the bed from me) because my room was the coldest room in the house. Even then, my mom got to a point where she could barely look at me because she couldn't stand the sight of what I was doing to myself. We couldn't have a conversation where I didn't get mad and yell at her for bothering me about my eating stuff, or the conversation just feeling forced and unnatural. I eventually agreed to go see my old physician, which never happened...but this time for a different reason than the usual "I don't want to go to the doctor" bit... On New Years Eve, I felt a lot of pressure in my chest, my breathing was really off and weird, and I felt so weak. I told my dad, and he asked if I wanted to go to the hospital, which I said "not right now" to. The next day, we went to see "The Hobbit" (our tradition; though I don't know what we'll do now that the saga has ended...) and we spent the night at home. Around 8, one of my best friends was on his way over when I told him that I felt sick and to go home. I knew it was coming, so I wanted to get it over with ASAP so I could have a chance of making it back to school on time: I asked to go to the hospital. I was admitted on New Years Day and spent 10 days in there. The moment I was admitted, I knew going back to school wasn't an option. If it was, my parents were the biggest morons on the face of the earth. I ultimately decided to admit myself (since I'm 19), but the only reason that I did was because my parents told me to; I would have been completely fine with going home, though the thought of a break from all of my eating disorder stress did sound appealing. I spent my first 3 or 4 days in the hospital feeling guilty, ashamed, and stupid for admitting myself: I could have gone back to school and my life would have been normal. On top of that, they made me either eat meat or take Ensure because I had eaten meat last year; I was hungry so I ate the stinkin' animal flesh...gross. The discussions of treatment centers followed, and the calls to places ranging from Florida, to Indiana, to Oklahoma began. I began to be okay with the thought of treatment. I started to look at schools online so I wouldn't fall terribly behind, and I might even be starting class this coming Monday (that's still up in the air). I asked if I could be discharged before breakfast when I was told my release date so dad and I could go to one of my breakfast places in the C-Bus, which they agreed to! Unfortunately, after being discharged on Sunday morning at 7:30 a.m., dad and I went to Tasi, where I got my usual (Greek yogurt with granola, fruit, and honey) despite really wanting a pancake. As I watched the chef prepare my dish, pouring on calories on top of calories of honey, I instantly regretted my choice. As I ate it, I thought of how stupid I was for ordering something higher in calories and price because I was scared of the grain-carbs in the pancake. Stupid. Just stupid. The next two days were rough because there was nothing but arguing over me not eating, my parents having the biggest fight I've ever heard them have over me, and just a bunch of stupid stuff that I caused. Oh yeah, I ate and did perfectly fine in the hospital, but eating at home, I realized, is hard for me/I just can't do it. On Monday, after 300 phone calls and a lot of anxiety, I booked a plane ticket to Denver, Colorado to go to treatment (which is where we had decided that I would be going to treatment, btw.) So, here I am: at the Eating Recovery Center in Denver, Colorado. It's Saturday and virtually nothing happens on weekends. I've been doing very well. When I'm in treatment, I have no problem eating (it's home where the challenge lies), and I've already moved to what they consider to be a level two...in only 4 days! WOO! I've been my real happy and positive self, though on Wednesday I thought about how I would soon be gaining weight and my clothes would start to get tight, so that will be telling once it really begins to happen. The food here is decent; not as good as Rosewood, but decent. I haven't really slept since getting here (or for quite some time leading up to it). I still have rolly veins that make it difficult to draw blood...nothing very new. I've started reading two devotion books a day, books about spirituality and God, and talking to my peers about God...why does it take something as devastating as my life getting rocked off the wagon wheel with Darius Rucker (I've also started to enjoy country music...I don't know what's happening to me), dropping out of school (I dropped out of Lee...again), going to treatment, and essentially having no control of my life to draw me into seeking God? I guess that's the way most humans work. Right now, I feel happy and content. I'm okay with being here because it's what my family wants. I'm okay with leaving Lee because I realized the only reason I was there was for my friends (which isn't the best reason to drop so much cash on a school). I'm okay with where I am in life. However, I'm terrified of gaining weight because no one really knows what my "normal weight is"...I've never had one. I'm terrified because I remember what I looked like and how massive I felt last year when I got out of treatment and I don't want to go back to that. I'm terrified that my treatment team is going to make me bigger than I should/want to be. The funny thing is, I'm not afraid of my eating disorder. I certainly don't want it, but I'm not afraid of it like I am gaining weight. If you ask me if I want to get better, I'll tell you the honest truth: no. I really don't want to get better. There is too much safety and certainty in my eating disorder that I'm not ready to give up. However, I'm going to get better for my family because I can't stand the sight of seeing my little brother cry his eyes out because he doesn't think I'm going to wake up in the morning to tell him about a poop I took. My family is my inspiration. God is my inspiration. I guess this is just one of those things where I'm going to cast my anxieties upon the Lord, and try and rest knowing that I'm made in His perfect image. Life doesn't suck yet, but when it does, I hope that I can turn to God and really rely on him versus relying on starving myself for peace.

UPDATES

Hi! Okay, so if you read my last post, you have probably been on the edge of your seat and unable to sleep at night because I said that I would write about updates on my life and details of my summer. Well, calm down...I giveth you the updates...eth? Yeah. Thanks Shakespeare. You're a bro with your Olde English. We last left off on my life post-California, which looking back on was one of the worst decisions I've ever made. Again, I loved seeing my friend and I went to Disneyland, but the stress during the trip and repercussions following it were NOT worth it. When I returned, the stress that I felt on the trip continued into stress back at home. Not for the same thing (it was money in Cali), but just stress about everything. I also felt very insecure and inadequate in my appearance and self. I continued going over to Children's in Columbus, and I would tell them exactly how I was feeling: fat. I didn't hide it and I wasn't going to lie about how I was really feeling because I was still in a mindset of recovery. I returned to my job at Dairy Isle also. A couple of weeks later, I had a bit of a falling out at Children's. I didn't eat all of my given exchanges the morning of my appointment because Mom and I were going to my favorite restaurant for lunch and the good ol' eating disorder habit of compensation came into effect. At this point, I just didn't care. When I got to my appointment with my therapist, she asked me what I had eaten that morning, so I told her, to which she replied by telling me we were going to go to the kitchen to get food to make up for what I missed. I respectfully refused. When she asked why, I said because I didn't want to. This went back and forth for a few minutes, and then she called mom in. Something bad financially had happened that morning, so mom wasn't happy in the first place, so when she heard that I was refusing food on top of that, she started crying and just left. I then was upset, so I went to the kitchen, got food, ate it in silence, and then walked out of my appointment. I was mad and mom was upset, so we didn't go to lunch, going straight home. Needless to say, the day was ruined. I thought about that event and my life in general and it just made me mad. A couple of days later, I called Children's, cancelled all future appointments, and quit going. I gave up. A couple of weeks after that event, I started going to summer school at OSU-Newark (which is literally right across the street from me). I took Intro to Psychology, Elementary Statistics, and Art and Music Since 1945. I loved all of my classes, believe it or not. I found stats to be interesting, I loved learning more about the music that I love, and I felt like I knew a lot about psych before the class, so they were all pretty easy. Except stats. It's not even that it was hard material, but for some reason I always missed the smallest details or random things on quizzes. Regardless, I passed my classes with 2 A's and 1 C. But I passed so that's all that matters. Oh, and one day after class, I got a tattoo. It's a black cross on my wrist (I know: typical white girl). It represents my faith (obvi) and then it also had more meaning to me. It was supposed to represent my deliverance from my eating disorder through the power of Christ. I had wanted to get the tattoo for awhile, but the events of this year and a book I read that really spoke to me inspired it further. When I wasn't at school, I was at the good ol' Dairy Isle. This year, I was trained in the kitchen, so I was makin' them conies and fries. It's amazing how many elderly people enjoy their conies and shredded chicken sandwiches. I worked a lot, and made bank. Now I know what you're thinking: "Zoe, when did you have fun this summer?" Well, I decided prior to summer beginning that as soon as school started, I was going to dedicate myself to my studies and work. So I did, and I enjoyed it. I actually love my job at the Dairy Isle. This season was especially spectacular because my co-workers became my best friends. We were together all of the time, so we didn't really have a choice, BUT I really do love them. They were the only people I felt like I could be my true self around and escape from the mess that my life was (again, that's to come). The biggest update actually began before I even went to California. Sometime in May, Cedar Point has a day where they let OSU students and faculty in for a discounted rate, so one of my best friends from junior high and one of my best friends of all time and another friend made through junior high friend (does that make sense? In sum, 3 people) took a road trip to be "ride warriors". As we walked around, I got weird vibes. Don't get me wrong: I enjoyed myself, but something wasn't right. I wasn't even at OSU, but I just felt...not right. I started texting one of my best friend's from Lee, and I realized... I want to be at Lee. "SAY WHAAA? BUT ZOE you hated it there!" Valid. I wasn't happy when I was at Lee my first semester a. because I wasn't taking mentally stimulating classes or enough hours to occupy my time b. I wasn't involved in anything c. I was too wrapped up in the eating disorder to function by the time I started hating it. Still, I felt like that was where I was meant to be. Vibes and feelings are (I believe) the prime way that God speaks to me, and I think that He gave me those feelings because He wants me at Lee. I love Ohio State main campus; I was excited to go there and live in Columbus (mi Corazon, but I didn't think that that is where God wanted me to be. I talked to my parents about it when I got home that night, and my Dad was supportive because he believes that Lee is where I'm meant to be, and mom was apprehensive but supportive. The next day, I sent emails and made phone calls trying to get information about applying. I proceeded to fill out an application to the school, a separate application to the school of nursing, and then I waited. Oh, did I ever mention that I had also decided earlier that year that I wanted to do nursing? Well, I decided that I wanted to do nursing at some point earlier this year. A few weeks passed, and I received a phone call: I was BACK in! To Lee and the Nursing school! Skip skip tally-ho! I went to school at OSU this summer basically preparing to come back to Lee. I was #stoked. So, now I'm at Lee. It's a little strange because it's not the same hall as last year where everyone was best friends, hardly any of my friends are on a meal plan (WHICH I WOULD LIKE TO ADD IS A COMPLETE WASTE OF MONEY and am very excited to be able to not be on one), upper classmen are NEVER on campus, and it's just weird because you realize how freshman centered most of campus is (at least for the first few weeks). I'm currently taking Foundations of Western Culture, Human Biology, Recent American History, Survey of Western Civilization II, bio lab, and New Testament. My foundations class: literally have NO idea what is going on. Like, why Homer? Why? I leave very frustrated and done with humanity when I leave biology. I love my American history and New Testament classes. My Western Civ. professor is rad and makes a lot of Doctor Who references, which I appreciate. I auditioned for a couple of the ensembles on campus, and actually got into one called EVS (Evangelistic Singers). They sing black-gospel type music, and I actually really like them, however, I decided not to do it because I want to focus on other things. I tried to rush in a sorority, but I didn't get an interview so that didn't happen (which I'm totally fine with). Cru started 2 weeks ago, and that is where my heart is. Ohh Cru, how I love you. I'm trying to get as involved in that as possible. I also joined SLC (Student Leadership Council), and I'm in the Marketing and Recruitment committee which I really enjoy. I'm also currently job searching. So now you may be asking "how are your nursing classes going?" To answer that: they're not. I don't want to do nursing now. Lemme splain... A couple of weeks before I left for school, my Norma (a.k.a. grandma) fell and broke her hip (2nd time this has happened). I stayed with her in the hospital for a couple of nights, and I saw the work that the nurses had to do and I had a major reality check. For one thing, I never had any desire at all in any capacity to do anything in the medical field. Another thing, I realized that one of the biggest reasons that I decided to pursue nursing was because I thought I was inspired by the nurses at Children's that experienced whenever I had been hospitalized, when in reality, I just like being the patient...I don't want to do the actual work. So nursing is no more. What am I going to do now? I have no idea, and I'm honestly freaking out a little bit of a lot because I have no plan. I'm considering communications or journalism because that is what I had wanted to do throughout high school and I do enjoy writing. I'm also looking into business administration with an international business emphasis, because one of my dream jobs is to be like one of those people on the Kashi commercials zip-lining through the rain forest, sourcing ingredients for their cereal and stuff... I also realized that I really do have a love/passion for coffee, and I would love to work for a travelling position of some sort at Starbucks or something of that ilk. I've also been thinking of an idea that I had last year of opening a coffee shop where I go to third-world countries and source the beans, share Jesus with the people I encounter, and then coming back to my shop and selling the coffee and other products the people make, and sharing their stories and the work that God would be doing in their lives. I'm also considering Anthropology again because that's a very versatile field, I love the building it's in at Lee, and I love the professors of the department. But I really have no idea what I want to do, or more importantly, what God wants me to do. Luckily, I need all of the classes that I'm taking for any of the majors I choose, so I have this semester to figure out what to do with my life. That's about it. All up to date. Again, I'll write again soon with more about my summer and the reason for the post prior to this one. For now, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on with my life. Transitioning back to Lee has been rough because I don't have any idea what I want to do, and I haven't really made any new friends outside of my friends from last year (which, in itself, isn't a bad thing because they are the best friends I've ever had, but I get really bothered by not having more friends). I just have to keep reminding myself that it's only the 3rd week of school and I have plenty of time to make friends, and that I have an entire semester to think about what I want to do. I know that it will all work out, but I hate not having a goal or a plan. That's where faith needs to come in, but I'm having a hard time with that too. Oh, I also developed a new passion for old school gangster rap this summer... not ashamed.

The Biggest Apology I've Ever Made

Hi. Okay, so you may have noticed that the word "apology" is the focus of the title of this post. There will be many much needed apologies coming up, so get ready... First, I want to apologize for not posting in a long time. I've been...busy? No, I've been lazy. There's been a lot that has changed and updated, and I will reflect on that soon (fingers crossed) in another post very soon, but for now, I want to focus on something more important than just what has changed recently. Second, (beginning the girth of why I'm apologizing, I just have to say that I am sorry. I am so, so, sorry. Not only have things in my life changed, but so have I...and not necessarily for the better. I want to apologize to my friends from any treatment that I've ever been in. Earlier this summer, I got upset with one of my counselor's and I just quit treatment. I gave up. I missed the life that my eating disorder gave me, so I went back to it. I'm sorry to my "friends in recovery" because I wanted to be a better example, a role model for when you wanted to give up, and a better friend. I'm sorry because a real "friend" wouldn't do that. I'm sorry for telling you that this lifestyle is not worth it and then turning around and being a total hypocrite. I'm sorry for not talking to you or inquiring about your lives and struggles all summer. I'm sorry for never making an effort to see any of you. I'm sorry that I let myself become a victim again. I want to apologize to my friends. I didn't make any effort to see any of you this summer, and I'm even more sorry because I didn't want to. I used the excuse of summer school and work to not hang out with you, even though I could have numerous times. I'm sorry that I didn't ask how you were doing more, and for not being there to support you. To be 100% real, I was too tired and I had no energy to do anything (because I wasn't eating like I should have been), so I just stayed at home. I love you guys so much, and I haven't showed it in any degree. I'm sorry. This should be saved for last because He is THE one I should be giving my biggest apology to, but I need to save the last for people who I feel most sorry about (which might not be good...?). But I'm sorry to God. You have given me countless chances, put so many different people in my life, and given me so many blessings and grace to conquer this disease, and I disregarded all of it. I fell into sin, and I did it willingly. I knew the repercussions of what I did, and I didn't care. I didn't care about destroying the temple you've given me. I didn't care about the people you sent who were worried about me. I didn't care about the love and redemption and freedom you gave me through your death. I gave into temptation and flesh and I wanted it. I was not your servant and by means NO example of you. I'm sorry for getting a tattoo in honor of you and your love, and then being a complete hypocrite and making it a joke or a lie. I didn't live my life for you, and I am sorry. Now for the big apology I have to make: to my parents, brother, and family. I am truly sorry. I know, I've said it to you different times, but I don't know if you truly grasp the depth of how remorseful I truly am for what I've done. I'm sorry for tearing us apart. I'm sorry for making you watch me destroy myself. I'm sorry for making you think that I'm going to die. I'm sorry for keeping you up at night wondering if I was still breathing. I'm sorry if I made you lose faith in God or His love mercy. I'm sorry for all of the stupid fights and yelling over food or meals. I'm sorry to my Mom for adding to all of the stress that you have already, being mean to you, being edgy and cranky, and saying things that I never meant. I'm sorry to my Dad for not doing my best, not doing what I need to do, making you doubtful or unsure, and not living up to the potential that you believe I have. I'm sorry to my brother for making you endure all of the fights with Mom and Dad, not being there for you more, for scaring you, for not being a good example of the love of Christ that I want you to have, and for not being a good sister. I'm sorry to my aunt who came all the way from Washington to visit for making your trip miserable and uncomfortable. I'm sorry to my Grandma for not being there for you more when you needed me, or for being there but only for my own self and benefit. I'm sorry to my family, in general, for not being all that you know I can be and for making all of your prayers and well-wishes a waste. So, in sum, I'm just so sorry. I've been mean, selfish, hurtful, disobedient, stubborn, willful, prideful, arrogant, and hateful. It's no excuse, but please know that it wasn't me; it was this stupid disease. I don't want to live like that. I want to be happy and nice and, well...me. Please know that I am going to do my best to make this right. I'm going to eat better, pray harder, study more, and make a life for myself. Not just that, but I'm going to do something to make this world a better place. I love you all more than anything. I can't express myself fully in this post, and (to be honest) I have class in 8 minutes, so I'm keeping this brief. I'm sorry. I love you all. God bless you. I'm apologize.

Mirrors and Tears

Well, it's been 6 months in recovery. I've been through hard times where I thought I wouldn't make it, and I've been through glorious times of triumph where I felt God's hand on my life and Him guiding me in this journey. Here I am now, and to be honest, now is absolutely terrible. It is the worst I've been in the recovery process. Actually, it's the worst I've been since the eating disorder started. So here's what's been happening.... It's always been my dream to go to California. Actually, I've always felt called to live there even though I had never been. Well, I found that I had the time and money to be able to go, so I did it. I went to Santa Clarita, California to visit one of my best friend's from Lee who is from California. I used my own money to buy my airfare and activities. Now, I HATE, LOATHE, DESPISE spending money. I put all of the money I make into my savings account and don't touch it. I'm blessed and spoiled to have the parents that I have because they give me everything I want and need, which has transpired into a bad thing because I rely on them for everything. Regardless, spending money is not my thing, so making this huge investment was a huge move for me. However, I didn't realize that until I was actually there. The first night, I realized how much money I had spent and how much I was about to spend, and I became incredibly depressed and stressed and anxious, and I wished I wouldn't have gone at all, but I was already in it so I had to make the most of it. I spent half of the time miserable, but half of the time having a lot of fun. We went to Disneyland, Universal Studios, the beach, San Diego, and we hung out with her friends. I really enjoyed spending time with her friends because I have so much in common with them and I wish that I had friends like that (not that I don't love the friends I do have). So with all of that fun going on, why was I so miserable, you ask? Because of the money. So much money. On top of money, eating and I don't have a very good history. Because I was so stressed about spending money, I literally spent the entire week starving because I was too scared to spend money on food. I brought a lot of snacky food, so I ate that instead of buying food. On the bright side of that, though, I didn't eat because I was too stressed about money and not the food itself , which would have been the case in the past. Praise God for that. To wrap that up, I could not wait to get on that plane back to Ohio, which is really sad because I would love to stay in Cali forever if I wasn't so stressed about money. And then I returned home...and the depression began. I can't put my finger on what exactly sparked it, but I have become insanely depressed, more so than I have felt in years. Very unfortunate since I also just got out of a forever long funk and finally beginning to feel happy. While I don't know what caused the depression, I do know why I feel depressed. I hate the way I look. HATE. Call me a typical anorexic, but I'm fat. Well, medically, physically, "health" wise I'm not fat, but to me, I'm a house. I don't feel like I look the way that I'm supposed to. I feel too big for how I should look, and this is eating at me to the core. Every time that I look in the mirror, I either feel physically sick or I want to break down in tears. I don't want to go out and do things because I don't want people to see me. I don't want to see people from high school because I don't want them to see how big I've gotten. I've been working as much as possible because it's the only thing that takes my mind off of my body. I feel stuck because I used to be able to control my weight and appearance by starving myself, however, after going through a week of that in California, I don't want to do that ever again. I'm also still going through treatment, so I can't do that there either. All that I want to do is go on a diet. Like, that would literally make me so happy. What I need to do is start working out so that I can get toned and everything, but I don't know what to do or how to do it, and quite frankly, I hate working out. I'm way out of shape and I get bored easily. That's more of a "suck it up and get over it" situation, but it's what it is right now. Right now, I just wish I never would have left Lee to go into treatment. At the same time, though, I'm thankful I did because if I hadn't, I'd be dead. What a double-edged sword. People often say "would you rather be fat and happy or skinny and sad?" Well, right now I'm fat and sad so where does that get me? Exactly. I feel more sad now than I did when I was incredibly sick. I don't plan on changing, though. I still plan on following my meal plan and trying to get through this. Still, I'd rather be skinny than healthy. I could care less about being healthy. I've learned that eating disorders suck and they are awful, but the matter of fact is, almost every single person on the face of the earth have some sort of distortion with food or eating. So no matter where you go or who you meet, people are going to have something "disordered" about their eating. My attitude right now is who really cares if I diet? The rest of society does it, so why can't I? You see, I hate society and the media. It makes people feel like garbage and like they aren't good enough. That's why there are so many diets and exercises and eating disorders and plastic surgeries in the world. Even though I feel that way, I am falling into society's trap. This depression has made me vulnerable and mean. I've been showing the classic symptoms of a bully, where they don't like themselves so they're mean to others. In my case, it's my mom. I feel terrible every time I say something mean to my mom, but I just keep doing it. I try to avoid her as much as possible because I don't want to hurt her, which hurts me because I want to be able to talk to her without being mean. I talk to my dad a lot about what's going on, which I know also hurts my mom. Needless to say, that relationship needs major work. Now on to my faith. Well, that's a weird subject in the midst of this. I'm not mad at God, and I don't blame Him for what's going on. I still believe that there is a greater good to come out of this all. However, I'm having a hard time giving these problems up to God. When it comes down to it, I guess I don't want to. I want to feel miserable so that I can have the motivation to lose weight. In reality, I need to be in prayer and communication with God, asking Him to give me confidence and acceptance that this body is what it needs to be, and it is beautiful the way it is. Right now, though, that isn't happening. I have to do my hair or makeup to feel slightly pretty, and I feel disgusting if I wear anything other than t-shirts and gym shorts (which, I might add, hardly fit me anyway). I'm sorry that this isn't a very happy or inspiring post. It may be even down right depressing or triggering. However, this is what recovery looks like with the ups and downs. This is a major down, but with that, there will be a major up. I don't know when that will be or what it will look like, but I have faith that God is going to move in my life. I just hope that it's soon because this stage of life really stinks.

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.