Me as an Elderly Citizen

I've transformed into an elderly person. I go to bed no later than 10:30 every night, I enjoy crocheting in my free time, I don't go out when the sun goes down, and my favorite thing to do is wake up early and sit around and drink coffee. Currently I'm sitting at Panera being "one of those people" who sit around coffee shops and write on a laptop so everyone can see them working on something. That's not why I'm here, though. Like I said, I've become elderly and like to sit around and drink coffee. I used to hate Panera, but last July I got a reward that got me a free cup of coffee every day of the month, so I utilized it very well and adapted to love Panera. The employees may have ended up knowing me as "that" girl who they could guess my order (a cup of coffee that I didn't have to pay for and nothing else) before I was at the register. I only got a cup of coffee today, but at least I paid for it, right? I really love writing this blog, but I'm really bad at keeping up with it; my apologies. Quite a bit has happened in the past couple of weeks since my last post, so I'll catch you up to speed. First, I'm no longer in Denver. I was discharged after being there for 35 days. I enjoyed my time there. I made really good friends and did the recovery thing. It was a good experience, but also very strange because I didn't struggle. There was that one weekend with the picture of myself that I wrote about in the post prior to this, but that was seriously it, and that wasn't even that bad. I got much better at being able to sit with and tolerate my emotions. I enjoyed the therapy there, as I felt I had more revelations regarding the utility and potential causes of my eating disorder, and I liked the methods of therapy they used. I don't really have much to say about my time there because honestly, not a whole lot happened. From day one I was my normal happy and positive self. I'm 99.9% sure that I just needed a nutritional kick in the butt to snap me out of my funk. I've known what to do in terms of my eating disorder for 3 years, but I was so malnourished that I wasn't cognitively functioning well enough to do what I needed to. Once the food went in, real me came out. It's pretty great. I flew into Cleveland, Ohio and my mom, brother, and aunt picked me up. The next day, I began my step down treatment in Columbus at a place called the Center for Balanced Living. I began their PHP (Partial Hospitalization Program), which is what I did last year where I went to treatment all day and went home (or the Ronald McDonald House in my case) at night. This program was different, though, in that I went for only 6 hours a day 5 days a week, and I lived at home the entire time. This is probably the best program I've ever been in. They tell me where I'm at with weight in terms of BMI and actual goals I'm trying to achieve with weight, unlike any other treatment I've ever been in where they tell you nothing. Now, I know that in the end, weight is just a number and it shouldn't matter...but to me, it does. Never before have I been excited about weight, but this time I am. Mind you, I'd rather not have to gain weight, but the weight I'm trying to achieve I am completely fine with. Currently, I feel confident and beautiful the way that I am, and the way that my body is. I've never really felt confident, so this is kind of fun. The average length of stay in PHP at the Center is 2-4 weeks, sometimes longer. I was there for 2 weeks because I did so well, and then I stepped down to a program that they call MAPP. Now, I go 4 days a week for 3 hours, and then see a therapist for 1 hour a week. Believe it or not, I have the same therapist that I had last year at Children's. Soon I'll drop down to 3 days a week for 3 hours and 1 hour a week with my therapist. I'm hoping that will happen after this week. Just like in Denver, I haven't really struggled with anything. I think the biggest thing so far is that I had some anxiety one morning when I went out to get something at the store and my dad made a couple of other stops, pushing my breakfast back, but that wasn't a big deal. For the past 2 1/2 months, my plan was to find a job, work 40-45 hours a week, and do school online. I was all set to start school at Ohio Christian University online to get a degree in business. My aspiration or my future career at the time was to open a coffee shop like Starbucks, travel to third world countries, source coffee beans there and make it a mission field for Jesus, and then travel back to the states and sell the coffee in my store and tell the peoples' stories. Then, I had a major breakthrough: what if I've had this eating disorder for a purpose for my career? I've always believed that God was using this disorder for a greater good, and that He had a greater purpose for it, but what if He wanted to make it my life? I think that the world of eating disorders is something I always knew I was supposed to do as I have an enormous heart for body image and people of the eating disorder population, and people have told me countless times that that's what I should be doing. I think I've just been running from it because I wanted to be done with the eating disorder in a way that seemed like it never happened. Well, God is a bro and has our best in mind. He made it clear to me that the coffee shop isn't what He has in store for me. Instead, I think He is calling me to be a therapist for people with eating disorders. My plan now is to be a therapist in a residential treatment center, and I want to have a Christian/scriptural emphasis. In my 6 years of dealing with this disorder, I've only encountered one therapist with any sort of faith backing, so I see a major need for it in the world. So, I changed my major to psychology. I think the same night I realized that I wanted to change my career, I also decided to change my goals for school. I love going to school and being a student, and if I went online, I would miss the personal interactions and relationships. So, I decided that I would cancel my enrollment at Ohio Christian University (and I felt terrible about that because the girl that was helping me get in was so sweet. I was terrified to check my email the days following my telling her I had a change of plans because of what I thought she would say. She was really nice though!), and instead re-admit into the Ohio State University in Newark either this summer or fall. I haven't decided if I want to move to main campus or not eventually because Newark is so much cheaper and I can get my entire degree there. Columbus is my favorite place in the whole world, though. We'll see, I suppose. I also turned 20 on Monday! I beat teen pregnancy! Hooray! I had the best birthday of my life, I think. The Friday before, two of my absolute best friends in the whole wide world from Lee drove up for their spring break and to spend my birthday with me. My heart was overwhelmed with happiness. We went to my favorite places, did my favorite things, and I got to spend time with some of my favorite people. On my actual birthday, I had a therapy appointment for one hour. My mom took my friends around Columbus while I was in there. They picked me up after, and surprised me by taking me to Cabella's. I am in no form a fan of anything that one might find use for in Cabella's, but I think that's what made it so awesome and funny. We walked around and looked for the 5 taxidermy bears in the store, found the only mannequin with a head, and took pictures like weird tourists. After that, we went to my favorite restaurant, then to my favorite store Goodwill, and then I had an advising appointment at OSU. That night, all of my family went to Mellow Mushroom. I felt enveloped with love as we took up like 5 tables. I could overhear my family talking and making comments to one another about how good I look. While this could typically be a trigger for many with an eating disorder as they manipulate the compliment into making it sound like people are calling them fat, it made me feel so good. I wore a dress (I got into dresses) and I felt so good and confident. 2 other friends came down from northern Ohio to celebrate my birthday too, and they spent the night. When we got home, we played Just Dance, watched "Hoodwinked", and just stayed up and talked and ate desserts. Best birthday of my life, for sure. The next day, my friends left, and I am now very sad. When I said that breakfast timing thing was the hardest thing I've dealt with since being home, I changed my mind. Dealing with the sadness of my friends has been the hardest. Again, it's not terrible, but it's hard for me because my friends at Lee are the best friends I've ever had and we connected on all meaningful levels. It makes me sad to think about all of the fun times they will have together down there and how I can't be apart of them. I know that we will always stay in contact and they will always be my best friends, but there is definitely something to be said about being able to walk down the hall whenever I feel like it and see them. I want to go back to Lee, but I know I only want to for them. I know that's not justifiable enough to spend so much money at a school that I'm very indifferent about, but it seems so worth it just to be with my friends. I also know that even if I did decide to try and go back, I need to wait awhile and live at home because I can't handle life on my own right now. To quote every person ever, "the struggle is real." (Which begs the question, is the struggle ever fake?) Oh! Another big thing: after two weeks of searching, I found a job! I now work at the Village Coffee Company in Granville (a little village next to my town)! I finally got my dream job of working at a coffee shop! I started this past week and I'm just training. I love it so far! Since I have at least 3 months before school starts (assuming I go in Summer), and that I only have treatment for 3 hours a day, I decided to go back to my other job at the Dairy Isle when I'm not working at the coffee shop. The coffee shop closes at 6 everyday and they are closed on Sundays, so I'll have time to do it. Am I overworking myself? I don't think so. I love my jobs and I love to work, so this is good for me. Am I giving up my social life? Not really; I don't really have one at home. Like I said, my friends at Lee are the best friends I've ever had. I only really have 4 best friends at home, and 2 of them work all of the time, 1 of them live an hour away, and the other lives 3 hours away. A lot of my friends are at my work too, so that's where I like to socialize. And getting paid is always a plus. I'm looking forward to starting school because I'm hoping I can make friends. The tricky thing about OSU-Newark is that it's a commuter school, and people either go in to get their degree and get out, or they go in with an established friend group; not many are really there to make friends. But here's to holding on to hope! So, here I sit at Panera, two coffees later (I drink way to fast). It's about time for me to eat my morning snack. I don't mind eating, but it does get on my nerves. I feel like a hobbit with the amount of times I eat a day. It's annoying to have to take time 6 times a day to eat something. I know it's almost what normal people do, but I'm still not used to eating "normally". I only have like 3-5 pounds left to gain before I reach my goal weight, and I am so pumped to get it over with. I've been eating all of the things I was scared to eat when I was in my disorder (a lot of desserts), and to be honest, I'm tired of them already. Besides that, though, my life is good. I have no complaints. Treatment is going well and I'm doing well in it. I miss my friends, but I'll see them again soon. To my shock, my mom was talking about me going back to Lee and her being okay with it. I couldn't believe that she would be okay with it after what has happened the past two times I've gone down there. Again, I would love to go back but just for my friends. I'm going to give OSU at least one Fall semester before I make any big decisions like that, but going back is in the back of my mind. For now, though, I'm okay with being home, being a barista, and being comfortable in my new body. I'm even okay with being elderly and sitting around drinking coffee.

Two Week-A-Versary

Today is Tuesday and it is the 14th day that I've been in treatment. It's weird because it has gone by so fast but I feel like I've been here forever and a day. It's going pretty well. This past weekend from like Friday through Sunday were the "worst" days that I've had so far. And when I say "worst," I mean that in terms of in comparison to the other days that I've been here, they haven't been as great. but they weren't terrible...just not as good. On Friday I decided to print out a picture of myself from last year when I was weight restored. I wanted to try and look at it and accept myself, as well as write down whatever emotions came up or how I felt. Well, it was a good exercise in terms of bringing up emotions because I felt muy scared. I am TERRIFIED of going back to that, so it was good to look at it and deal with the emotions that came up because I'm more than likely going to back to looking like that soon. I know that I didn't look bad and that I was healthy, but that doesn't make up for the fear of gaining weight, or going back to that appearance, that I'm currently battling. I just associate the way that I looked with a great deal of self-hate and sadness. When I first got to that weight/appearance, I was fine. I was totally happy and gung-ho about recovery. However, it proved that "all good things come to an end" was the case in my situation as I eventually realized what I looked like, I (or, at least, my eating disorder) didn't like it, and I hated myself. I couldn't walk pat a mirror without balling my eyes out. I saw myself as the fat, overweight, lonely, attention-seeking little girl that I once was and I freaked...hence the relapse that landed me where I am now. #swag. I'm learning that I place so much importance in my weight because of the feelings that I experienced when I was a higher weight. I never got the attention of boys, the same kind of attention that other girls got, I felt like the only thing I was really good at was being the "funny fat girl." I've realized that the eating disorder gives me the attention and nurturing from my parents that I feel as though I missed out on as a kid because they were either working or helping my dependent brother (note to parents: this isn't about condemnation, it's about how I feel). I've realized that the eating disorder is my means of coping with stress and anxiety. I've realized that my eating disorder provides safety: in my eating disorder, I don't have to deal with the hassle and stress of "normal life." I can starve my way into a mini-vacation where I don't have to make decisions or do work, in the form of a treatment center. So while the eating disorder really sucks and ruins my life, it provides something for me that I have a hard time getting outside of it. I have no complaints as far as treatment goes, except there are only like 2 groups a day and they aren't mandatory, and there is wayyyyy too much free time. I've seen/heard at least two incidents of people trying to run away (a.k.a. "elopement"). I've realized all treatment centers smell the same and that scent is fart because everyone's digestive system is whacked out. The food here isn't as good as when I went to Rosewood, but I've had some tasty meals. We go on outings every weekend, and this past weekend we went bowling (which was fun for bowling). I pooped at the bowling alley and it was exciting not to have someone check the toilet before I flushed (which we have to do whenever we go to the bathroom here). We have "fresh air" breaks where smokers can go upstairs to smoke, or you can go downstairs to get some fresh air, or you can just stay inside. The past couple of days have been sunny and in the 70's; I actually got hot yesterday which was a refreshing change of pace. A couple of people and I meet every morning after breakfast to read the day's passage of "Jesus Calling" and pray, and then we meet on Saturday mornings to have a Bible study over the book of Exodus. It's a good group because it's the only spiritual aspect of the facility besides going to mass on Sundays which is...mass-y. More than that, though, it's a good reminder of God's presence. I believe is and I feel God with me in this process. I pray that He won't make me "fat", but I ultimately want His will no matter what. It's hard for me to accept and it's hard for me to think about, but I believe that God will use me and love me no matter what size I am. I just really, really, REALLY hope it's not huge...

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...