Change

Damn, I don’t even want to say it. I don’t want to admit it to anyone who reads this. I’m worried it gets old, that no one wants to hear about the same fucking cycle I find myself circulating through. I kind of assume an eye roll comes along with this on your side of the screen and maybe a few people even click away and stop reading. But however irritating or mundane I feel like it may be, it’s the truth and it’s my experience and I am going to stop avoiding talking about it because I’m worried about what people might think. So, that being said, I’ve been in treatment at the PHP level for five weeks now. For the first time since starting this two years ago, I am in a different program, not Center for Discovery. Part of the reason for that is most, almost all, PHP programs are now virtual due to COVID, but my team and I knew that I needed more support and accountability than virtual programs could provide. It’s also a longer program than I’m used to. If you remember, in a previous post I wrote about having a dislike for weekends mostly because I didn’t treatment on those days. Well, I'm absolutely delighted (read: sarcasm) to report that the problem has been resolved. We come on weekends as well now with the privilege of getting out a few hours early, so eight hours a day on both Saturday and Sunday instead of ten. Yes, ten hours a day here, all meals and snacks included aside from HM snack (night snack). It definitely took me some time to come to terms with that, it really freaked out my eating disorder, which is the only voice I was really hearing at all hours of the day before admitting. I procrastinated a lot with the admission process when it was delayed for several weeks, not advocating for an earlier admission when I probably could have. Either way, I began the program on a Thursday and didn’t really let myself truly take it in until I walked in the doors.

It took me a little bit of time to take in my surroundings and really pinpoint the things that I found were especially helpful about this new program and also things that I wish were done differently. In addition to the longer hours and the increased accountability and support that come with that, I also really appreciate the punctuality upheld at this PHP program. Unlike some of the other programs I have been through, I feel like my time is always being respected and it adds underlying tones of trust and dependability when I am confident in the structure and communication of the staff and management. I also like my therapist here. Way more than I expected to or like to admit. The first time I met her, I told her I wanted to make sure I didn’t get attached to anyone or anything while I was there because that was what happened previously and it made leaving really painful. I couldn’t do that again. In fact, this was one of the huge reasons I was reluctant to go back to treatment to begin with. I didn’t want to make connections that would ultimately be fleeting and cause more harm than good. So I tried to put up walls and I tried not to care. However, when I explained my view of the world, how I feel about connection and relationships, and this idea of finite love, she understood so quickly and thoroughly that I couldn’t help but lean in a little bit. Then a little bit more. As the days turned into weeks, my refusal to connect had been pretty much overrun. I also took quickly my fellow peers that I met and continued to meet as the milieu evolved. Although the anticipation of having to meet so many new people can be anxiety inducing, it never fails to impress me how amazing every single individual is that struggles with this illness. Smart, kind, compassionate, well-humored, driven and overall an absolute privilege to know. All of them.  

Side note: Something interesting, not necessary good or bad, is that because of part of the protocol for COVID, everyone always had to be wearing a mask except when we were at meals. So within a few hours of being there, you see all the faces of your peers when you are eating, but not the staff. I realized around my third week that I had never seen my therapist's face. So at the beginning of a session I told her this and then asked her if she could take off her mask. I even told her I would grant her the privilege of seeing my face as well, so I counted backwards from three and we did a synchronized reveal. Definitely a shocking experience. It's wild how inaccurate our subconscious assumptions of how the rest of people’s faces look are when we only see the top quarter of them.

Something that was hard for me to adjust to was the overall difference in philosophies between this new program and that of Center for Discovery, which I was accustomed to by this point. The extensive conversations around intuitive eating, fatphobia, social justice and awareness that I experienced earlier in my recovery really informed the trajectory of my journey and allowed me to place my experiences into a bigger context. We had uncomfortable conversations during family nights about weight stigma and thin privilege and they ignited so much passion and growth within me. It strengthened my mental muscle around having those hard conversations which, especially in our world today, I have found incredibly applicable. I don’t think those same kinds of conversations were happening in this new program. If they did during the time I was there, it was almost always because I hopped on my soapbox, which isn’t really as productive as a dialogue is. I think that even when it came to stigmas within eating disorders, there were indirect perpetuations of myths and beliefs that I wished would have seen challenged. For instance, conversations in groups steered fairly clear of things that weren’t, what I will call, “acceptable” eating disorders and their behaviors. Of course, at face value, there is not such a thing, but when looking through the lens of our culture soiled with the white thin ideal, there very much is. When I finally got the guts to bring this up in conversation, many agreed that restriction and exercise felt like it brought a badge of honor with it and was easier to talk about. I would say this is because of how it reflects societal values, however toxic they may be, of perceived power, strength, beauty, control and success.  On the other hand, behaviors like binging and purging, we agreed, felt dirty and disgraceful because they didn't seem to stem from the same values. Even the language we use to talk about eating disorders, particularly as those who struggle with them, is an example of how this manifests: It intrigues me how often that people with anorexia call their eating disorder by name as opposed to someone with bulimia or binge eating disorder, for example. Whether it be in person, online, or else, I so commonly hear things like, “I have entered treatment again for anorexia”, “I feel like I have lost control to anorexia”, or “being anorexic is the only thing I am good at”. On the contrary, I almost never hear the words bulimia or binge eating disorder used in the same context over the much-preferred label of just, “eating disorder”. There is a level of shame carried by eating disorders that aren't the "preferred" disorder, that just isn't present for anorexia. Like, what message do you think it sent when I told a program therapist that I was struggling with urges and she responded with, “self-harm or…bathroom?”? It communicated that "purging" shouldn’t be said, it needs to stay under the radar, it is best to keep that word hidden. Not even a professional in the field was immune to the discomfort that comes with saying a word that has such a feeling of filth plastered all over it by the taboo nature of bulimia. 

Now, that unrequested evaluation aside, I have accidentally shot myself in the foot by waiting so long to finish up this post on a few accounts: a) In the time that I started writing it and the week after during which I neglected to finalize it, my insurance decided to cut me from the PHP program I just told you I had started and b) As I had the extra time on my hands after being cut from the all day program, I finished writing this post but then mistakenly deleted it because apparently the browser tab was old and did not save my work before I refreshed the page. Rookie move, Gloria. I do want to touch base on the former, because it made me feel a lot of things that can pretty much all be summarized by: shit.    

Cue Thursday, June 5^th, five weeks to the day of starting PHP. I went in for the second of my two weekly therapy sessions after AM snack. One of the first things we talked about is that I didn’t need to worry about my insurance dropping me to a lower level of care after all because my insurance had asked my therapist that morning if they were considering a higher level of care for me! This still worried me slightly, as I reiterated to her my disdain for that idea and, if it did come to it, the high likelihood that I would refuse to go and leave treatment as I had done the previous summer with obviously remarkable results. (P.S. Helloooo eating disorder voice, I see you there trying to make decisions for me.) But it relieved me more so, as we didn’t think insurance would tell us that I was ready for a lower level of care any time soon, at least, since they obviously thought that even more support than what I already had might be beneficial. Well, they must have thought that in the next four hours I somehow had the most accelerated and god-given progress in the history of eating disorders, because right before dinner that night, a lower level of care was what they saw was fit. Now, long time readers know that stepping down from a full day to a half day program is always hard for me, as is true for most people. But the most change that had ever been was going from 7hr/day five days a week to 3hr/day. Effectively one less supported meal and snack each day. But now? Having to unexpectedly go from 10-hour programming (which includes three pre-prepared meals and two snacks) all days of the week to 3hr/day programing just three days/week that, nonetheless, is over a computer screen, was comical above all. I can acknowledge now that deeming it a sheer recipe for disaster is catastrophizing a bit and that there surely was a (tiny) chance things could work out alright in this new situation. But, I also firmly believe that it is somewhat naïve to think that someone who had not even had a day-pass to practice being on their own for merely 24-hours would be able to face the plentiful hours which I would be spending with me, myself, and I over the weekend and not feel like they are drowning. 

And so it went. I was able to get one buffer week of doing the shorter program in person to try to tie up a few loose ends, but it was still fairly defeating. I felt as if I had finally been able to start utilizing the support around me, after several of the first weeks spent not doing so. I needed to feel safe enough to be able to challenge the thoughts that told me I didn’t deserve to ask for help, and, if I did ask for it, that it wouldn’t be there the next time I found myself needing it. It hurt to know that this was going to be taken away now, and it hurt even more when it was actually gone. It hurt in a lackluster way. Especially when I had accepted the reality of it all. I felt (and feel) an increasing sense of apathy and anger. I was angry with myself for failing to keep up walls that might have protected me from this exact pain I wanted to keep out. I wished I would have trusted my gut that said this wouldn’t do what people said it would do for me. But I know at the core that while those things may have protected me, they also would have stripped me of any joy I found while I was there.

The future is still uncertain. Today is Friday, eight days since that all transpired, and I start the virtual program on this Monday before potentially trying another route to rejoin the day program. That comes with its own hurdles and feelings which I try not to dwell on given the simple fact that it may not even play out that way. 

Thanks for being patient with me, 

Glo