Author: thinasair

A bright young soul that feels like it has lived a thousand lives. A paralegal by day and a mental health advocate 365 days of the year. This is a place for understanding and communicating my journey through recovery. Please join me as I bring back my blog and feel free to comment and share your story.

And Just Like That… Quasi Recovery Is Over

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The journey I forced myself to take, the push towards healing, has ended. I have fought for over a year to focus on recovery and to stay in recovery. I chose to jump ship and call it quits.

The weight put on me that no one sees is just as bad as a fat roll I never had. Any time I sit, it is there. Every time I lean forward it is there. Now I’m in a bigger body that I never asked for or agreed to.

I am choosing to jump ship on recovery. I cannot be in this bigger body. I am crawling out of my skin even more. It worsens each day until now. I will no longer sit in this body that I have made disgusting. Every inch of my 5’5″ frame needs to be rid of fat. I stupidly allowed “recovery ” to soften my body, my stomach and hips are absolutely disgusting.

So here I am at midnight, giving up on the recovery I had gained because it isn’t worth hating my body and everything about it more than ever before. I would rather die than be this big. It is disgusting and I am a weak person for letting myself believe I would be someone, something without Ana. I was so greatly wrong.

Chasing Emptiness

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One step forward. Just for today. Minute by minute. I’ve taken so many steps backwards that I fell right of the cliff. They tried to pull me away from the edge but I gave up and gave in. In the midst of the mess, I gained an amazing friend who has tried to hold me accountable especially with tough love. It hurts my soul that she has gotten dragged into this nightmare. Again, a burden only for myself to carry and worry about.

Walking into her room, where I have been in therapy for a few years, this is the first time I’ve walked in completely terrified that there is a chance I might not go back to work but to a hospital. Thankfully, that did not happen.

The therapy session was absolutely rough. I’ve never cried in that room, until today. When they say recovery is the hardest thing you will ever do, well, this time, they are right. This relapse is something I haven’t felt in years. I gave up trying and now I am in a very dark place that I have no idea how to get out of. Seeing the word “non-compliant” in regards to the scale, to being honest, to medication, to everything, even that hasn’t jolted me out of this. All I hear is her saying keep going. Every ounce of my soul has been consumed by Ana. This defiance, the straight faced lies, the sneaking, it is all her game. One that I am losing.

Deep down, I so badly want to be better, to be healthy. However, it feels like anything I try is just a waste of time and effort. I see how so many lose their battle to this monster. I don’t want to be another one. The question though is how. How do I not become another statistic? How do I face the world I have so desperately hidden from?

I sit in my office chair staring at the wall wanting so badly to get work done, but all I hear is Ana yelling. My work has never been caught in the crossfire until now. It is obvious that this is my rock bottom. The lies I’ve told punch me in the gut like no other. The knowing looks and the “I know better than that” look, they want to believe I’m being honest, yet I am sure they know deep down I am not. I am simply moving through the days lightheaded like walking on clouds. They say the high is in the chase for some. For me, it is in being empty. It is in feeling light and small. The lies being told of nutrition being consumed, when it is all but liquid calories at this point. I will eat some almonds and a Bluey apple snacker. Anything else, cereal, granola bars, salads etc. are all things I have become terrified to touch. Things that in prior relapses didn’t invoke terror and utter panic.

I sit here now trying to figure out a better way. A way to climb this hole and get out. I just don’t see it right now. No matter how hard I try, my fingers slip and I lose all grip and success. Only I can get myself out of what I put myself in. However, this fight is getting exhausting. It is getting harder and harder to find the strength to try again. I see why high levels of care are needed. For me, it isn’t bad enough for that. So as I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I will try again to find my way out.

Well, try at least.

Accountability and Seeking Treatment

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Having that one person in my life that puts their foot down, that accountability, is such a raw emotional feeling. I look back and I see I had such a “childish” response in the way I said no. The subtle child like rebellion and attitude of being told what to do, that makes me sad. Looks like my inner child, the one that was first diagnosed at 16, is still fighting for control. Then again, maybe I am not an adult at all and this is a dream.

Who would have ever guess something so deadly was so easy to disguise. The world’s deadliest mental illness resides in me and I fully understand that. The sad part, like an addict, I am hooked on the high of emptiness. The weightlessness, being lightheaded, ignoring the concerned looks, knowing consequences are just on the horizon.

There is one thing I must admit. I did one adult thing and in the right direction. I submitted information on a treatment facility’s website. Within 24 hours I had an assessment set up with one of the clinicians. After the one hour phone call, I was told I will be a great fit for their virtual IOP. It took so much time to really process what I had done.

I have been accepted into their program can start treatment almost immediately. However, the finances just aren’t there and that is okay. I want to see what treatments are available and what level of care I “need”. Though I will not be attending with the treatment center, it is comforting knowing that there are virtual IOPs out there that are flexible with scheduling.  ERC Virtual IOP has additional financing options that may lead to actual treatment within the coming weeks.

I’ve been on a wonderful path of recovery and living a life not dictated by Ana and her authoritarian control. How did she creep back in and take over again? As I sit in my swing watching the storm roll in, I cannot fathom a world without her.  Yet, it all feels safe.

In one week I will know the steps that lay ahead if I can’t trick the scale, but am I willing to accept what is to come? I guess we will have to wait and see.

Lost All Control

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Two appointments, two separate appointments and both left me despondent and lost. I went to my 3 month med som appointment and confirmed increase, a significant increase, in ED behaviour. It was then that she confirmed she would be taking me off of X medication as it is contraindicated with Ana and puts me in a dangerous position. All I wanted was to have the medication continued as it has helped with ADHD. At this point, I will not be getting X back. You will find me in the book of herbs and naturals. I rather handle it this way, now seeing how this has shown me what life is like when ADHD symptoms are under control. I have tapered myself off, per her instructions, and those few days without X reminded me of why X had made a difference. Here I was going through life not realizing that half my issues were significant concentration and attention deficits, something I didn’t know I had. Thankfully, I can now identify and try to redirect/correct my attention at work, making the days go smoother than in the past.

Here is where I left her office knowing I will be returning in a month for f/u. In a month, I will return to her office “to continue to monitor progress and weight.” Miss ma’am, I think not. Just because I lost some doesn’t make me a target for constant watch. The one thing she didn’t know was that my weight is actually lower. I’m sure we can think logically how I managed that. So, yeah, just by that action at the office with the scale, proves that Ana is in control.

Fast forward to today, July 23, 2024. I had my therapy appointment. Oh boy was that rough! Giving myself a voice is so damn hard when Ana is in control. Every breath, every single blink, absolutely everything about my existence, is hers. Hearing Holly say X medication has black boxed Ana. Needless to say, when I got to the office, I went and searched the black box warnings. Even though it isn’t exactly in the box, it is there in black and white. Ana seems to be a contraindication to everything. In that moment, I, not Ana, was deflated. I felt cheated, but back to the appointment. We tried to look back over the last year and to focus on what helped boost me in recovery and start adding them back to my “goals.” After several more minutes of explaining why I’m bucking at the need to stop taking X, Holly made a clear statement, one that hit hard and put EVERYTHING in perspective. She stated: “by her letting you stay on X, that is like her handing you sharps,” in reference to my prior SH. Like handing me sharps, damn, that made so much sense all the while being a punch in the gut. She isn’t wrong. Now that I think about that, my nurse said pretty much the same thing in a different way.

Two new appointments, in two weeks time. First, Psych med f/u. Second, Holly. I am now back to every two weeks for therapy. Where did I go wrong? Did Ana really take total control and I am just a bystander not caring to stop and fight back? I am not a victim of anything other than my own doing. This isn’t me playing victim. This is me trying to be open and honest, even though no one I know reads these. I get this is a disease, just like alcoholism or drug addiction, there is a genetic component. I get that recovery is a choice, one you have to fight to work through, I’ve been there. I’ve done the work.

Right now, I just have to sit and process this relapse, and push myself up out of this new rabbit hole and move forward. As my site says, one bite at a time.

Another Carousel Ride

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After taking a break away from posting anything on all platforms, I find myself in a pretty deep rabbit hole.

I spent many, many months piecing my health and mind back together and for a good while, I was doing much better. And then, right after the holidays, we were hit with news that our grandson would be coming back to live with us. Needless to say, I had gotten used to him not being home. I am forever grateful that we have been able to step up and take care of him. I will cherish this time forever.

I guess this is where the slope started.

I had set myself a goal to find exercise fun rather than only numbers and I was getting on the right track. The #s on the scale slowly started to creep up, and at first, it really scared me. Yet, I kept pushing to be a better, healthier me.

Looking back over the last five months, I can see where I seen the rabbit hole, peered in and rather than walking away, I jumped in. Slowly starting to notice working out was back to focusing on distance and #s burned. It didn’t matter, even sick, I was at the gym or outside. Then came the bigger slip and slide. Excessive caffeine. I put the Bang cotton candy down and picked up the box of a diet pill drink powder. As I often did, I mixed two rather than 1 per 16 ounces. The stronger the better, or so I thought.

At that moment, the first sip, the berry mix flavour, though tart, put me right back into some of the more dangerous behaviours. Drinking coffee and going right in with the drink mix rather than water, a true disaster in the making.

So I stand here now, feeling naked and lost. Ana is absolutely pissed off that I told my PNP what has been going on. Like I somehow ruined everything because I made the grownup decision to be honest. Honesty and Ana have never gotten along and more eyes on me is the last either of us need/want.

Being in a support group with a very tight and private community has put life into prospective. One I thought I’d never see, nor afford to be apart of. However, even at that I am lacking and making the conscience decision to open the app and just bounce from posts and pages. Never really putting effort into being honest and being apart of the community.

This is embarrassing, and to be 33 nearly 34 years old, makes it worse. I get EDs have no preference, everyone is a target. I just happened to be a huge target for the last 17-18 years of my life.

Maladaptive coping skilss are what I choose when I have so many great tools to use to get better and stay better. But, here we are again, sitting in utter shame, naked and terrified what happens next.

Sorry for the disappearce and super long return.