The Best Balancing Act There Ever Was

This was supposed to be a post about balancing school and in-person treatment, some of which it will be, but as this draft has had a long slumber under the "unpublished" heading, I have left that level of care and began back in virtual intensive outpatient care as I had earlier this summer prematurely. In this time I moved back into my home, lost my grandfather, and had to take space away from a close friendship. It has been a major challenge to deal with my emotions and take care of my responsibilities, and despite my best efforts, I seem to fall short of even my adjusted expectations for myself. I have typically been able to find pride in my ability to be flexible with myself and juggle many things at once by doing so. However, with things that have transpired, I have also recalled times in the past when even balancing the bare minimum seems undoable due to things like, but not limited to: depression, eating disorder-related things, and anxiety. 

When school started in August, I was not sure how I was going to be able doing it while in PHP, but I knew I was going to have to do it. I was nearing the latter end of my stay so it would only be a matter of 3 weeks or so of having to accommodate both, but those three weeks proved to be as hellish as expected. I was allowed some study time, a couple hours a day during programming, to work, but those were mostly spent attending online lectures. I usually was left with just the time after being dropped back at the apartment at 6:30 to do any readings, assignments, and notes that accompany the 15 hour course load I gifted myself with. Days in PHP are exhausting on their own without school in the picture. They are long ass days full of emotional labor. Four groups, three meals, two snacks, and likely at least one individual session all just in one day. And every few minutes looking up at the clock counting down until the next dreadful walk into the cafe. Thus, the name of the post: it was a major task to be able to balance the two evil- blessings.

I was able to get eight weeks of PHP this summer after stepping back up, and I can say I found some healing in my time there. I am, again, so lucky to be able to meet and come to know such amazing peers and staff time and time again in treatment and this stent of it did not fall short. 

The first few weeks of virtual IOP were a bit rough. I was dealing with the sort-of unexpected loss of my grandfather, leaving PHP, stepping away from a relationship, moving back home, and approaching my first round of midterms. I was very overwhelmed. I hid away from responsibilities and taking care of myself in more ways than one. I felt a deep loneliness that scared me. I fell behind in some of my classes, one in particular (which you should never fall behind in): Organic Chemistry. I was excused from the first exam due to my grandpa which helped me get back on the horse for the other three exams I had, but at he expense of ochem. Basically, I have had to catch myself up 6 chapters and hope and pray I don't bomb the second midterm that is now a week and a half away. I am unsure if that will be something I can pull off, but only time will tell. I am proud of myself for trying, though, no matter the outcome. The past three weeks have been so busy for me, partially due to the remarkable amount of reading and notes for ochem I have had to surge through, but also because VIOP is still 11 hours a week and thats not including the outpatient team members that I have also begun seeing again. Overall, it's just been a lot, and I am trying to handle it, but finding the line between self care and procrastination isn't always in my daily skillset. 

And finally, as much as I would like to continue dancing around talking about the actual state of my eating disorder, I won't. 

I think all the time we spend working on ourselves is huge and always moving us in the right direction. I think the work I do in and out of treatment is ultimately going to come to fruition and I do believe that I will one day be free of this. That thought itself is proof of progress. I used to toy with the thought, as many with ED's do, that maybe I was just incapable of recovering, but now, while I understand where that idea comes from, I think it was a more naive Gloria who thought it. Eating disorders like to make us think we are the exception and that we are the one stuck with it for life (which makes sense, because if we believe that, we wont't fight to get rid of it). I don't think my eating disorder is special and I can see the potential for a future without it. My problem is, I don't see that being now. This is probably another form of the same thought, but it feels like it is also fused with a little bit of hope. Still, it is a thought that prolongs the breath of the disorder, and it fucking works. It is an example of how my ED, like all can, has adapted itself to be able to keep me within its grasp. For example, instead of trying to write its own logic to persuade me with like it used to, it uses my own and my pragmatic nature to speak to me in my native tongue. The eating disorder thoughts are at times disguised so well that even people trained to call them out can sometimes see their point. I made progress this summer, but I am still struggling with food. I am still struggling a lot, it pains me to say. I know I still probably need more help, but the treatment fatigue is overwhelming. After the first, like, two or three months, a lot of the information and discussion starts becoming repetitive. After being in treatment programs for collectively eighteen months over the last 30, well, you get the picture. I'm grateful for it, really. I should probably complain less about it, but, if you know, you know. 

Thanks for reading. Thanks for caring.

Glo