Why I Almost Left Treatment
"I am broken".
On Wednesday, I was ready to call it quits.
My treatment team had decided to put me on 2 hour CO (constant observation) after meals because I was repeatedly experiencing extreme anxiety and they wanted to keep me safe.
Although they were trying to help me, I felt that their decision was a kick to my stomach when I was already down. I was in distress and I remember throwing my hands up and saying: "I'm done".
I messaged my mom and my dad and my therapist back home telling them that I was discharging myself early. I was so committed to this idea of leaving because I felt broken. No one, and nothing, would be able to help me. I had spent too many years in the depths of my eating disorder and recovery seemed like an impossible feat. I was still motivated to free myself from this illness but it literally felt like I was climbing a mountain with no end in sight.
I spent the whole day crying, but I was crying because of sadness. I, the healthy Meghan, wanted to stay so badly. But my eating disorder was SCREAMING at me to leave and the war in my head was deafening and unbearable. I didn't want to leave this place. I didn't want to leave my treatment team. But I felt COMPELLED to leave. Because staying here was just causing me so much emotional pain and I couldn't take it anymore.
I had never felt more defeated in my life. It wasn't my intention to go home, restrict, and lose the weight I had already gained. I thought I was going to be okay. Maybe I would have to live in semi-recovery for awhile, but I was desperate to do anything to rid myself of the anxiety, panic, and the war I felt in my head.
I spoke with my doctor on Wednesday afternoon and let him know about my decision. He looked at me and with a serious voice said: "You are making a serious mistake". We talked everything over and I reiterated to him that I really wanted to complete my treatment here but didn't feel like I had it in me. This eating disorder has taken too much of my personality and the only thing I feel these days is extreme anxiety and I was sick of it. The meals are hard. Weight gain is difficult to accept. Body image is impossible to tolerate. But at the end of our discussion, and after many tears, I reconsidered. I decided to stay.
It was probably the hardest decision to make because I had to shut down that eating disorder voice in my head. I had to agree to subject myself to more food, weight gain, discomfort, and anxiety. This is the most difficult treatment I have experienced to date but my willingness to recover is still there, despite the nasty illness presenting itself more strongly than ever.
Day by day, I will get there. And although I don't always remember it, I have an incredible doctor and a whole treatment team supporting me through this messy thing called recovery. Every bite I take and every pound I gain is one step closer to freedom.