I am a warrior

As humans we all have something we struggle against and wrestle with.  For a long time I felt alone and ashamed and embarrassed with the war I was fighting.  I'm fighting myself on a daily basis, I look in the mirror and see a distorted image of myself, my day is based on a number presented on the scale below my feet, I try to control situations and what people think about me by controlling my weight...

I have an eating disorder.  I refuse to let it define me anymore.  I am NOT an eating disorder.  I am Emily.

I am a warrior.  Really, we all are warriors.  We are all fighting each day to live our lives and move through our own pain.

Last year I could hardly function.  I have struggled with my eating disorder for at least 14 years and last year I was losing the war.  I felt like I just wasn't trying hard enough.  There were so many others who were achieving their weight loss goals, but I was running out of steam to keep playing ED's game.  My anxiety and depression were at levels I couldn't manage anymore, but I kept hearing if you lose x amount of pounds then you will finally have control and life will make sense.  So I tried and tried and tried, but really all I was doing was digging a grave.  

I couldn't see that I was digging a grave.  The couple close friends I opened up to last year were trying to get me to see that I needed help, but I would continue to be in denial.  You're not an anorexic, you don't qualify to be one, which means you don't have an eating disorder, you just can't stick to your diet.  If ED says it, it must be true...  (But really having eating disorder not otherwise specified (EDNOS) is a real eating disorder, it just doesn't get as much attention as anorexia.)

I had stopped telling my husband what was going on and he was the first person I ever opened up to about my eating disorder.  I wanted him to think everything was fine.  What's wrong with starting a new job, competing on a state and national level with your business group from school, being maid of honor in a good friend's wedding, being in a musical where you weren't good enough to get a bigger part, and buying and moving into a house on top of trying to starve myself and lose weight?  Did I mention that was mostly in the beginning of 2013?

As the year progressed I was getting worse.  I was in an operetta over the summer and although I was all smiles with my faerie wings and wand, inside I was being ripped to shreds.  You're one of the bigger faeries, you aren't graceful enough, you are a joke, they only let you in the show because they pity you.  At first I wasn't sure if anybody actually liked me in the cast.  All I could think was all these people are so talented, what am I doing here?  Even though I was a bit unsure of everyone I started to actually makes friends with many of the cast members.  It was a strange feeling to trust that they weren't going behind my back and talk about how stupid I was.  Eventually rehearsals became my safe haven from my thoughts, but once it was time to go home ED would return and I cried many times on my drive home.  During the summer I met with my therapist for the first time (with much support from my husband and a couple friends) and continued to see her whenever I could.  I have tried therapy in the past, but something would happen that would end it prematurely whether it was in my control or not.

Then August came...and everything got crazy.  I was in a car accident that put me on bed rest for five weeks due to a concussion.  Those were terrible weeks.  Although people shared their love and support in various ways I still felt like no one cared.  It broke my heart when I couldn't be in a friend's wedding and I felt like I was letting everyone down in my life.  All my issues magnified and I was sobbing constantly when my thoughts turned to suicide more and more.  I couldn't stand being in my own skin, I just wanted to die to end the pain.

Once I was back at work I noticed I couldn't concentrate because I was still dealing with concussion symptoms, but then my eating disorder, anxiety, and depression started distracting me every minute of every day.  The concussion can cause sleep problems and when I couldn't sleep I was being bombarded by negative thoughts.

I was able to join the cast of another show and found again that theater was my safe haven.  Unfortunately, I ended up having a complex migraine caused by the concussion and missed two shows.  I was back to resting for a few days and I felt terrible for letting my cast down.  I'm so grateful to everyone in that cast for stepping it up when I could not be there.

When that show ended it was time to get ready for Christmas.  My husband's family was coming to visit and I couldn't handle the pressure of what I was feeling mentally and emotionally and trying to get our house ready for company.  By this point I would come home and just lay in bed.  I didn't have the energy for anything, even if it seemed like a simple task to anyone else, and I had isolated myself from close friends.  

The night before Christmas Eve my husband's family arrived and that night I couldn't sleep.  I was suicidal.  My husband woke up and asked why I was crying.  It took me forever to tell him and he stayed up with me for hours.  I was ashamed to tell him, but it also was a relief to know how much he loves me to be supportive and refrain from judgment.  The following day he spoke with his parents so they were aware and could be a source of support for me.  Unbeknownst to either of us his parents told my parents.  On Christmas Day they had an intervention.  I never thought I could be that bad to be worthy of an intervention.  Now looking back I realize that was the only way I would have sought the next level of treatment I needed and to be finally open and honest with my family.

This is the start of my fifth week in a partial hospitalization program.  My insurance has said the magic word "discharge" and I don't know when that will happen.  What I do know is that I am a warrior and I will continue to fight for me.