Acceptable Anorexic

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Guthrie/Acceptable Anorexic/1

Angela Guthrie Approximately 38,500 Words

Mansfield, Texas

[email protected]

Acceptable Anorexic

A 43 year old womans first steps toward recovery

Angela Guthrie

The Overview

For about 25 years I hid my eating disorder perfectly. Perfectionism is a common trait

among eating disordered patients, and I had mastered the art of hiding my disorder. I was perfect

in that respect. I was only 19 when I first toyed with anorexia and soon switched to bulimia after

seeing Meredith Baxter (then Baxter-Birney) in a made for TV movie designed to keep women

from becoming bulimic. I watched that movie captivated and decided that bulimia looked so

much easier than anorexia. I was right. The next day I tried it and was hooked for 14 years. The

only time I abstained was when I was pregnant with our first child. After that bulimic period, I


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switched back to anorexia. This wasnt a conscious decision; I simply couldnt handle the guilt I

felt every time I purged. I was never a binger, only a purger, and I felt extreme guilt every time I

threw up, often crying while purging. Finally, I couldnt do it anymore, so I switched back to my

familiar friend, Anorexia. At this point I wasnt restricting food much; I was over-exercising. I

would walk four miles an hour for a couple of hours a day several days during the week and then

walk three or four hours on Saturdays and Sundays. This didnt happen every week, but it did

often, and it went on for years. It didnt send off red flags to my loved ones because exercise is

seen to be so healthy in our society, but they werent in my head. If they knew what I was

thinking, they would have been concerned. It was frightening. Finally, the summer I turned 43,

our family went through some very difficult times. In the past when times got hard, I exercised

more and cleaned house compulsively, but this time it wasnt enough to give me a feeling of

control, so I began to starve myself. I know it makes no sense. It doesnt make sense to me

either. At first, I lost my appetite because I was sad, but then it became a conscious decision not

to eat, and I began to feel more in control of my life. I was controlling my weight. I had always

been small, but I was losing weight very rapidly, and it felt good. I couldnt hide my disorder any

longer, and my journey of recovery was about to begin.

My eating disorder is driven by a need to control, usually misplaced guilt, and then my

perfectionistic personality feeds the disorder, as well. Most of society just thinks of anorexia as a

disorder of skinny teens who want to look like super-models, but its so much more complex

than that. Body image is a huge part of the disorder, but there is so much more to it. I had had

issues with body image for as long as I could remember. When I was in the second grade we

moved from an apartment into the house where I would grow up. There was a little girl across

the street that was in kindergarten who I befriended, and she was very thin. I remember the first


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time I saw her noticing how small she was, how thin. She was in kindergarten! We stayed friends

throughout childhood, and I always compared myself to her, and always felt fat. Of course I

developed sooner since I was older, and that only added to the problem. If anyone had asked me

to describe myself as a child, I would have said that I was a chubby girl with frizzy hair. Now,

looking back, she and I were both skinny little girls, but I did have frizzy hair. My view of

myself regarding size has always been distorted. Also, according to my therapist it isnt normal

for a child so young to even consider size. I thought everyone compared their size and weight to

their friends at every age. Im still baffled to learn that not everyone does that.

When I eventually went into a treatment program, I heard over and over that eating

disorders are bio-psycho-socio disorders. Thats why we see families where several people from

multiple generations who have eating disorders. Thats the biological aspect. Many disordered

patients have been abused or suffered trauma, and thats the psychological aspect. We all know

how society portrays perfect bodies, and we often get that message in our own homes, as well;

thats the sociological aspect. I identify with all three aspects.

When I began losing weight so rapidly and others began to notice, I also started feeling

ill. I didnt have any strength at all, and I was often dizzy. I knew I had to get some help, but I

was terrified of letting out my secret. My eating disorder had been my secret friend for so long.

I wasnt ready to let go. Also, I was 43 years old, intelligent, and well-educated. I knew that

what I was doing was wrong; I should have been smart enough to stop starving myself, at least

thats what I believed when I was thinking rationally. I am an AP English teacher, and I say the

right things to students all the time. I know what to say to students who have problems like this,

but I couldnt seem to take my own advice. In addition to all of that, I am Catholic and have a

strong faith. I felt tremendous guilt. God gave me this body, and I was destroying it. I felt


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guiltier when practicing bulimia, though. For some reason that seemed more violent than

anorexia. When I was purging I felt like I was actually hurting my body. Anorexia seems more

subtle.

Knowing that I needed to reach out, and being an English teacher, the first thing I did was

look for books. I found some that were helpful, but none of them focused on older women with

eating disorders. That fed my shame. Was I the only middle-aged anorexic out there? I felt so

alone and absolutely terrified. Once I got into the treatment program, I found that there were

many women like me. The ages actually ranged from 19 to 79 during the time that I was in

treatment, with many of the women in their 40s. While that made me feel better, it also makes

me sad that there are so many women who need help. I decided to write this so that other

women who are as frightened and feel as alone as I did will know they are not alone. Im

sharing my experience leading up to treatment, my time in treatment, and what it was like getting

out of treatment because reading someone elses journey who was past their teens or twenties

would have helped me. Everyones journey is different, but in many ways our journeys are

similar, too. From what Ive heard there is no cure either. This is a lifelong journey. We need to

support each other and keep moving in the right direction. Its a much harderprocess than one

would think.

1

The summer I turned 43 was the beginning of a very difficult time in my life. I had been

through other hard times, so Im not sure why this rough patch hit me so hard, but it did. My

brother, Brian, and I had been taking care of our ex-step-father, Dan, for several years. He is

totally blind and has multiple sclerosis. He was living in an assisted living home, but Brian and I


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bought him groceries weekly, took him to all of his appointments, and visited him often. That

summer his health took a turn for the worse, and he spent most of the summer in the hospital,

much of it in the ICU. I was at the hospital with him every day. His sodium was low, and much

of the time he didnt know who I was. I have two sons who were 9 and 15. They were wonderful

with their grandpa, and never complained about me being at the hospital all the time, even

though it meant they didnt have a very exciting summer. I carried a lot of guilt because the boys

were stuck at home, but I felt terrible about Dan, too. His MS was worse, too, and he couldnt

walk with a walker anymore. It wasnt likely he would be able to go back to the assisted living

home, and he loved it there.

In August, on the first day of school, a friend of mine who had been battling cancer died.

She was only in her 40s, and had a young son. It was devastating. She and I were both in my

best friends wedding, and we werent close friends, but I genuinely cared about her. I was so

upset for Kayce, my best friend. I wanted to control her feelings and help her to feel better, but

of course I couldnt. It was so hard to watch her hurting and not be able to help. I was also sad

about the death, but I think I was more upset about Kayces feelings. One night I remember

sitting on the bathroom floor listening to Kayce sob through the phone, and I couldnt DO

anything. All I could do was cry along with her. I felt so helpless. Its hard to watch people you

love hurt.

My husband, Mike, and I had been married almost 20 years at thatpoint. Weve had a

remarkably happy marriage. Of course we argue from time to time, but we argue respectfully.

We dont name-call, or yell. We genuinely like each other, and have a good time together. Our

biggest issue through the years has been that he works so much that we havent been able to

spend as much time together as we would like to, but in recent years that has gotten better. His


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father died two years ago, and it was a terrible blow. He was a wonderful man, and Mike was

very close to him even though they lived in different states. In September of this year, his mom

died pretty suddenly. It was awful. We were able to fly out of state to see her before she died,

but it was terrible. Again, I wanted to control Mikes feelings. It was almost unbearable to

watch him suffer. I love him so much, and watching him deal with the pain of losing his mom

was horrible. The entire ordeal was excruciating because Mike and I had help his sisters, and it

was my nature to want to take charge of everything especially since Mike was suffering, but it

wasnt my place. I had to step back and let Mike grieve and handle things with his sisters. It was

challenging for me to let him manage things the way he needed to. I restricted my eating to help

cope. That was something I could control.

So, back during the summer sitting at the hospital every day with Dan, I was sad. I was

thinking about what a depressing life Dan has now, and I just didnt want to eat, so I didnt. I ate

a little bit, but not much, but I wasnt actively restricting food. I was just sad. Dan used to be a

very active man, and now he sits in total darkness, and cant walk, although on good days he can

use a walker if someone else guides him. I have to say he has the very best attitude of anyone

Ive ever met. He is thebest example of positivity! However, during that time at the hospital I

wasnt thinking of positivity. I was wallowing in sadness, and not eating.

Dan was still in and out of the hospital until September, and then he went into a

rehabilitation hospital for a month. I had to find a new home for him. I found a nursing home that

is only six minutes from my house. Its old and run down, but the care seems good, and Dan is

blind, so he wont see how run down it looks. I had to find something that he could afford since

hes got MS and a lot of health issues come with that. He may need a lot of money for a long

time to cover his healthcare. Being near me seemed to be a smart idea so that I can pop in and


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check on him often, but he would be very far from Brian, my brother, so most of his care would

fall on my shoulders, now. In October, we moved him in. He hated it. He loved the assisted

living home where all of his friends were, and hated the new environment. He hated every single

thing about it, and let me know every chance he got. There were times when I was trying to

teach, be a good mom and wife, and deal with all of Dans issues, and I simply didnt know how

I was going to get through the day. I remember telling Mike one day that I felt like a Halloween

skeleton that was going to clatter to the floor one day. I could even hear the sound that the

skeleton would make. At the time I didnt make the connection that I was starving myself, and

was literally becoming that skeleton during the fall when I was beginning to restrict quite a bit.

Then by September when my mother-in-law died I still wasnt eating, and I realized I felt

better when I didnt eat. I began to actively restricta lot. This went on through November when I

started having issues with my energy level, dizziness, and cognition.

One day I was teaching AP English Language (I had been teaching English for 18 years),

and I had some notes out that I was using for the particular lesson, but I wasnt reading directly

off of them. I was interacting with the students, questioning them, having some fun, and then I

totally lost track. I had no idea what I was doing. I looked at the page in my hand (the page

without notes), and I couldnt understand it. Then I went to my podium and looked at the notes,

and I still couldnt understand. I was frightened. I didnt know what was going on. Fortunately

my students like me, and we were far enough in the lesson that they knew what to do, so one of

my brighter students took over and led the class. I told the students I had a headache. It was

terribly disconcerting. I learned that this sort of thing is very common with anorexia and

malnutrition. The good news is that it is reversible.


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2

In November I decided I needed to get some help. Mike and I liked to go look at open

houses just for fun and to get decorating ideas. We had been trying to decide what kind of wood

floors to put in our home, so that is something we had been focusing on lately. Driving down a

street near our home on a beautiful fall day, I told him that I had a problem, that I was anorexic,

but that I thought I could handle it myself. He told me that he knew I had lost too much weight,

but didnt know what had been going on. He wanted me to see a doctor. I told him that I had an

appointment with my gynecologist, Dr. D, in January, and that I have known him for so long that

I felt more comfortable with him than with any other doctor. I agreed that I would talk to him in

January if I wasnt able to turn things around on my own by then. We had such a succinct

conversation about it. I simply stated what was going on from my point of view, he shared his

concerns, and then we went on to the open house. It was really kind of strange. We seldom

mentioned anorexia that winter. I thought about it obsessively, but Mike seemed to think that I

had everything under control. I didnt.

In December, I tried to eat, but it backfired. I made my favorite homemade chocolate-

chip cookies, but whenever I ate any, I would majorly restrict for days. My willpower was

incredible. I ate virtually nothing on Christmas Eve when we had our big family celebration. I

had become addicted to Keurig Chai Latte tea, and drank that all the time instead of eating. Still,

no one knew. My mom commented on how thin I was, but said she didnt think I looked

unhealthy. On December 27, my moms older brother was admitted to the Cardiac Care Unit

where he stayed for about five months. Watching her suffer was another difficult addition to my

eating disorder.


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On January 30, I saw Dr. D. I was very nervous. I was planning to out my friend,

Anorexia. I had never told anyone except Mike about my eating disorder before. Dr. D had

known me for about as long as I had had the eating disorder, and he knew me very well. We had

been through infertility together, and two extremely difficult pregnancies and births. I trust and

respect him. For several years he had been talking to me very seriously about needing to gain

weight. He runs a weight loss clinic in addition to being a gynecologist. So, after the usual well-

woman check, I told him I needed to talk to him. I told him I was anorexic and had been bulimic

for 14 years earlier. He said he knew there was a problem, and wasnt surprised at all, but that

right now based on my weight, I was still acceptable. That was the wrong thing to say to an

anorexic. I was reaching out for help, and what I heard him say was that I wasnt anorexic

enough to really need help. I know that isnt what he meant, but its what my disordered mind

heard. At the time I weighed 90 pounds, and left there with him telling me that he believed I was

smart enough to just eat, but with me thinking that I needed to lose, lose, lose. So thats what I

did.

At the same time, I knew my health was deteriorating. I was so confused. I desperately

wanted to be healthy, but I didnt want to gain weight. In fact, I still wanted to lose weight. My

logical mind hated what I was doing to myself. I knew I needed help, so I decided to get a

therapist. I looked for one who worked with eating disorders, and who was affordable. I dont

mind spending a fortune on my husband or kids, but dont want to spend money on myself. I

found a woman whose website said she worked with womens issues. I figured eating disorders

were usually womens issues, so made an appointment. She was likable enough, but it was soon

obvious to both of us that I knew more about eating disorders than she did. I made another

appointment to be polite, but then when I went to the next appointment we both decided it wasnt


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going to work. She gave my money back and referred me to an eating disorder specialist, Dr. L.

I wanted to see Dr. L, but Mike and I had a 20thanniversary trip to Boston planned, and I didnt

want to see Dr. L until after that trip.

We went to Boston and had an amazing time! We hadnt gone away together since Carter

was born ten years ago. The only struggle I had was that I wasnt eating much on the trip and it

was hard for me to hide that fact from Mike. Ive never eaten a ton, so he didnt notice too

much, but I did have to make it seem like I was eating a bit more than I was. Other than that it

was perfect! We walked everywhere, so I got a ton of exercise which made my eating disorder

very happy, as well.

The day after the anniversary trip I had a follow-up appointment with Dr. D. I weighed

89 pounds. He was a bit upset that I had lost a pound, and I was very upset that I had only lost a

pound. I was still acceptable. I was wearing jeans and cowboy boots and desperately tried to

figure out how much those weighed. I increased my restricting.

A week later I met with Dr. L for the first time. I had been majorly restricting since my

appointment with Dr. D, and had made the appointment with Dr. L on the same day. In my

mind, when I was going to begin seeing Dr. L, I was going to truly begin recovery and give my

control of anorexia over to her, so I felt the need to cling even tighter to the anorexia in the

meantime. I like Dr. L, and felt she helped me some, but I needed so much help. 25 years of an

eating disorder is a lot to recover from.

I went to confession with Father George. It only took a few minutes, but then I stayed for

over half an hour or so visiting with him. I love him. We talked about my anorexia and feelings

of shame and guilt. Something about being Catholic just piles on guilt, but Father George always


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makes me feel so much better. Unfortunately I always feel awful again the next day. At least I

know he loves me.

In April I felt like I was improving mentally with the help of Dr. L, but I was still losing

weight. She sent me to a nutritionist, Casey. She was very good, but young. Everyone associated

with anorexia seems to be very young. I dont really mind, but it would be nice if Dr. L was abit

older so that she could relate a bit better to caring for an aging parent. Casey wanted me to keep

a journal, writing down everything I ate and the time that I ate it. I was also supposed to list my

feelings about good and bad foods. For my meal plan, I was supposed to eat a carb, a protein,

and a fat at every meal, and a carb and either a protein or a fat for snacks. I needed to eat every

2-3 hours. She didnt want me to worry about amounts because she didnt want me to be hung up

on numbers. Of course the only part I focused on of all of that was dont worry about amounts.

I continued to majorly restrict foods, eating about 400-500 calories a day.

Also in April, I started having constant unexplained diarrhea for a week. It stopped when

I started my period, so I figured it may be related to female issues. A week later, Dr. L sent me to

Dr. D to check my lab work and for a weight check. Dr. D wasnt planning to see me until June,

but he was agreeable to seeing me sooner.

When I got there, my chart said, Follow Up Eating Disorder. I thought that was

interesting because usually there were just numbers on the chart, or it would be blank. It doesnt

show why a patient is there. On my chart it very clearly stated why I was there. When I got to the

back, Tracy, the nurse that I love and have known forever, was horrified. She was extremely

apologetic, and said that she would find out who made that mistake and would make sure it

didnt happen again. She asked me if she could white-out my name on the chart and take it to the


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office manager to show what had happened to be sure it was corrected. I told her I didnt mind,

but that I wasnt upset. It was what it was. I am anorexic. If the world needed to know, that may

be my punishment. Dr. D felt the same way as Tracy, but I just couldnt get upset about it. I felt

like I deserved it. I did this to myself. The office manager called me into a private room and

apologized profusely before I left, saying the person had been reprimanded, but I told her that I

was not nearly as upset as everyone else.

As for my appointment, my labs werent too bad. I was anemic, but Im always anemic,

and my sodium was low, but not too low. Other than that I was alright, but I had lost 6 pounds.

Now I weighed 83 pounds. This pushed me over the edge. I was no longer acceptable. Ive

known Dr. D for over 20 years, and he genuinely cares about me. This appointment was hard. He

actually teared up a couple of times, which was very difficult for me to see. He was worried

about me. He said that although my labs werent bad, often times with anorexics they arent bad

until things become critical. He talked about putting me on anti-anxiety meds or anti-depressants

even though I dont need them just for the benefit of the side effect of hunger,but I told him that

I wouldnt take them. He also talked about hospitalization, but I talked him out of that, too. He

said I needed to come in once a week for weight checks, and that I couldnt lose a single pound.

He also wanted to talk to Mike. They talked on the phone after I left, and he proceeded to scare

the shit out of Mike, but he was also very kind and supportive of Mike, as well.

I was supposed to be blind-weighed. That was determined by Dr. L, but I didnt tell Dr. D

until after I was weighed this time. I didnt have a set goal in mind for my weight, but every time

I saw my weight, I would think, OK, thats fine, but I wish I weighed just a few pounds less.

Then the next time when I do weigh a few pounds less, I do the same thing again. Dr. D wanted

me to have blind labs at that point, too because he was afraid I would think that since the labs


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werent too bad that I could just keep doing what I was doing and all would be fine. He knows

me well.

My appointment with Dr. D was on a Friday. My diarrhea stopped on Thursday, and I

mentioned it to Dr. D. He said it could have been related to female issues, or it could also have

been because my body was at a point that it was starting to feed off of itself. Who knew? On

Saturday I started to have major stomach issues, much worse than before. I also had pain in my

side and back. Sunday night I finally took Imodium. Mike got angry with me because I took so

long to finally take the Imodium. That was hard on me. He had been incredibly supportive this

entire time, but on Sunday he was livid. He didnt understand anorexia; who does? But he didnt

blame me, and he had worked hard to help me work through the shame and embarrassment. He

is an amazing husband. So when he got so angry with me, I was so upset. I hated taking

Imodium. The few times I had taken it in my life, it had caused me to be constipated for a week

or longer, also, I am anorexic. The idea of taking Imodium goes against the grain. Fortunately,

Mike didnt stay angry for long. He was more frustrated than anything. He desperately wanted

me to be healthy and take care of myself, but I seemed to be sabotaging efforts every step of the

way.

On Monday, I was in bad shape. I was beginning to get dehydrated, and I just generally

felt awful. I had no strength at all, was dizzy, and had difficulty even standing for very long at a

time, but I insisted on going to school. Kayce, my closest friend who had moved out of state a

couple of years ago, was calling and texting me and Mike. She was extremely worried. We had

been friends for over 20 years, and I had never known her to be so concerned. She wanted to fly

in to force me to get some help, but I had been successful so far keeping her home. My mom was

also frantic. Eventually my mom, Kayce, and Mike conspired to force me to go to the ER. I


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spent the day attempting to teach. I sat in a chair at the front of the classroom and gave students a

writing assignment. Thats it. I must have looked bad because students and teachers kept asking

me if I was alright all day. Mom picked up Carter from school for me, and then met me at the

house and took me to the ER. I didnt like the others arranging all of this without my input. It

took away my control which is what this disorder is all about for me, but in this case it was for

the best. I was a mess.

The ER visit was eye-opening for me. When Mom and I arrived at the hospital, she asked

me if I was going to tell them that I was anorexic, and I said that I would be honest. She said that

she and Kristin, my cousin who is an ER doctor in another state, had been discussing me and that

it was very important that I be honest, but that they didnt think that I would be. I told her that I

felt it was my penance.

It was a horrible experience. Everyone was very nice, but they all left me feeling even

more strongly that I should be ashamed of myself. It began with the guy at the registration desk.

I filled out the form and he asked me why I was there. I told him that I was anorexic and that I

thought I was dehydrated. He quickly looked away and mumbled, O.K.I sat down in the

waiting room wanting to disappear. It continued with the admitting nurse and the doctor. Each

of them seemed very uncomfortable with the word anorexia. No one ever acknowledged that I

even said the word. No one ever asked if I was getting help or receiving treatment. I felt ashamed

at first, and then angry. How dare they judge me when they wont even ask any questions about

what is going on? I wasnt just angry for myself, but for other eating disorder patients. Its so

difficult to admit we have issues; we at least deserve to be acknowledged. I was dehydrated, and

they found gallstones, but my labs werent too bad other than that. The doctor even stated, Im

sure Dr. D would not have wanted to admit you with labs like this, making me feel like a fool


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for even going to the ER. Thank goodness they found gallstones, or I would have felt like a

complete idiot.

On Tuesday, I took the day off to rest. I rested in the morning, and then went outside to

plant flowers and onions. It was a beautiful day. After planting, I used the blower to blow the

leaves off of the deck, porch, and the dogs patio. After an hour of yardwork, I was so incredibly

exhausted that I couldnt stop shaking for almost 20 minutes, and even then was completely

wiped out. It was humbling. I had no idea how weak I had become. It did inspire me to eat lunch.

I realized that if I wanted to get better and stronger, I had to eat. Unfortunately, that didnt stick

with me long.

That afternoon I had an appointment with Dr. L. She was especially kind that day as we

discussed my weight loss and how weak I had become. We discussed the nutritionists plan and

how I wanted to follow the plan, but how hard it was for me. After much discussion, we decided

that I needed to enter an inpatient treatment program at a local hospital, a different hospital than

the one where I went to the ER. Its about an hour and a half away, and they accepted my

insurance. She wanted me to go right away, but Easter was the following Sunday, and I insisted

on being home for our big family celebration on Easter. I also needed to set everything up at

school and arrange for substitutes. She told me that since I had been doing so well in therapy, she

thought I would only need to be there for about two weeks to get over the hump of re-feeding. I

ended up being in the treatment program for six weeks, and Im not sure if it was long enough.It

was an amazing program, though. I think it saved my life.

3


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After being in treatment, Ive learned that everyone handles this next part differently.

Once it was decided that I was going to go into treatment, how was I going to handle the

logistics? I felt completely overwhelmed, but knew I needed help. Many patients are very private

about treatment. They try not to let anyone know where they are going. I did the exact opposite.

Part of it is because guilt is a driving force for my eating disorder. I feel guilty for so many

things that Ill write about later, so I feel I deserve punishment. My punishment was allowing the

world to judge me for my eating disorder. I didntdeserve to hide it, so I didnt. The other reason

I didnthide it wasbecause Ive always been a very honest person. I hadntlied about anything

except for the eating disorder, and now that I was seeking recovery, it was time to stop lying

about the eating disorder. Its different for everyone, though.

First, I needed to tell Mike. He was leaving to go out of state to finalize his moms estate

from her death months before. I called him on the way home from the therapy appointment, and

he was so relieved. He knew I was wasting away and desperately needed more help than I was

getting. Hes such a supportive husband. He told me that he, Mom, and Bonnie (the mom of

Carters best friend, and a good friend of our family) would be able to handle everything at home

and with the boys. He just wanted me to get well; we have long lives to live together, and lots of

plans. I needed to get well so that we could do those things. He also asked me to buy him a book

on anorexia. It meant so much to me that he wanted to educate himself so that he could be more

help to me.

Mom, Kayce, and Bonnie all reacted much like Mike. They were so happy that I was

going to get the help that I needed, and were quick to assure me that the boys would be well

taken care of while I was gone. I am so blessed to have the family and friends that I have.


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Telling the boys was rough. I didnt tell them at the same time; I wanted to talk to Mitch

first. He was sixteen at the time. Everyone I had told so far was so happy, but I was terrified. I

knew it was what I needed to do, but the thought of leaving my boys, especially Carter (not even

especially, but Carter for different reasons than Mitch) for two weeks made me so sad. Little did

I know it would be for so much longer. Then I thought about not being able to curl up with Mike

when I need comforting, and I just wanted to cry. I wasnt even going to be allowed to take a

phone, or any technology. I was going to be so isolated. It was the fear of the unknown, and it

was a huge unknown. It was a world I couldnt even imagine. Everyone kept telling me how it

would be life-changing, and how I was so brave, but I didnt feel brave, and sometimes I wasnt

so sure I wanted my life to change. I did want to be healthy, but there was a comfort in practicing

the eating disorder, too. It had given me control for 25 years. I turned to my faith for guidance

and comfort. Prayer helped me tremendously.

So, when I talked to Mitch, it was very difficult. He knew I had issues with food, but I

had never used the word anorexic concerning myself with him before. We talked about

everything honestly. Hes a guy who needs information, and I gave it to him. I could tell he was

worried, but he seemed to be alright. He and I have always been extremely close, and I knew it

would be difficult for us to be away from each other for the time that I was in treatment, and it

was. He worried about me a lot, too, and it was hard on me knowing that I was causing him

worry. There was nothing fun about this, but when I was back home again, our relationship was

just as strong, if not stronger, than ever.

I waited until Saturday to tell Carter because he had a fun field trip on Friday and I didnt

want to spoil that. Carter has anxiety trouble sometimes, and I knew that this could cause him

more worry than it might cause Mitch. I talked to Dr. L about how to handle it with Carter, and


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she suggested using his anxiety, so I did. When I talked to him, we curled up on the couch

together. I told him that just like he needed to see a counselor to help him with his anxiety, I

needed to see some professionals to help me with getting stronger, so I needed to go away for a

little while to get stronger and healthier. He and I both cried, and he asked some good questions

about what I would be doing and how long I would be gone. He was very clingy the rest of the

weekend, but seemed to understand that treatment is what I needed. It was a lot for a sweet,

sensitive ten year old to take in. We spent a lot of time cuddling up, watching movies and simply

spending time together. I found comfort just being near him, and he seemed to feel the same

way. After finishing the treatment program we felt even closer to each other. I think we just

appreciate each other more.

On Wednesday, I had to go to school and get things ready for a substitute for two weeks,

and let people know that I was going to be out. I teach AP English Language and Composition

and an SAT prep class at a large inner city high school. I needed to let my principal know. I had

talked to a few of my colleagues who are close friends on the phone the night before, and they

were extremely kind. My principal had always been pleasant to me, but he wasnt an easy man to

know. He wasnt a friendly, chatty, lets hang out and get to know each other kind of guy. So,

going into his office and sharing something so personal was quite uncomfortable. I did it, though.

I went into his office and sat across from him. I was so intimidated, but knew he respected me

and thought I was a good teacher, so I used that to give me the courage to speak. I told him I had

been struggling with eating disorders for 25 years, and this year our family had had a very tough

time, and because of that my anorexia had gotten out of control. It was beginning to impact my

health, and I needed to go to a treatment program, probably for a couple of weeks. He was so

nice about it, although I knew he was surprised, as well.


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A friend of mine who teaches with me told me that she was so shocked when I told her

about my eating disorder because from the outside looking in it looked like my life was so

perfect. Our family is attractive, we are happily married, our children do very well in school, we

live in a nice homeeverything seems just right. She pointed out that you never know what

people are dealing with, and everyone has an issue of some sort. That comment stuck with me,

and made me feel so much better. It wasnt that I wanted others to suffer, but thinking about

others having issues made me feel less ashamed, less alone.

My principal looked shocked when I told him what was going on, but I understood, and

he really handled the situation remarkably well. He got me the Family Leave paperwork and told

me he would help me with anything I needed, and made sure I had his cell phone number in case

I needed to reach him anytime. I felt better after talking to him.

When I got back to my room, three close friends were there ready to give hugs and offer

help. They were incredible! Edwin, my good friend who also teaches AP English, met with me to

plan lessons for the next two weeks. Rachel and Doris made all of the copies (with help from

Lisa) and offered unrelenting emotional support. They made it possible being out the last six

weeks of school. I missed the weeks leading up to the AP test, which was a terrible time for an

AP teacher to be out, but Edwin made it a bit less horrible. Ive always wanted to do everything

myself, and do it perfectly (another trait of eating disorder personalities), but I learned through

this process that I cant always do that.

When Edwin, Doris, and Rachel met me in my room that morning, they told me that they

felt that the department needed to know what was going on. We have a large English department,

25 or so teachers, and they knew something was wrong with me, but they didnt know what it


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for a couple of weeks. The response of the department was overwhelmingly positive. Several

people cried. Everyone offered hugs and words of encouragement. People offered to help Mike

and the boys, and wanted to help me with school. I couldnt believe how kind and concerned

everyone was. No one seemed to be judging me at all. I still felt the shame, but it came from

inside.

Interestingly, that afternoon two women, one in her 40s and one in her 50s, came up to

me at different times to tell me that they each had issues with eating disorders, but they each had

always been too ashamed to seek treatment. They thought they could handle the problem on their

own, and were embarrassed by their age. They felt exactly like I did. Its partly because of them

that I felt the need to write this. Just by being honest one afternoon, I was able to reach two

women and let them know they werent alone. Other women need to know that, too.

That night I took Mitch for a haircut. Our whole family goes to a nice salon and sees a

stylist named Jamie. Weve gone to her for so many years that she has become a true friend. I

asked to speak to her while Mitch was getting his hair washed, and we went outside to have

some privacy. She responded just like everyone else, with extreme kindness and understanding.

It was interesting how all of this kindness made me feel. One the one hand, I appreciated

it, but on the other, it made me feel overwhelmingly guilty. I didnt feel like I deserved the

kindness. These people should have been shaming me. They should have been disgusted by me. I

did this to myself. I chose not to eat.

Carter was on a field trip with his class several hours away to the state capital and

wouldnt be home until late that evening, so Mike was going to meet Mitchand me at a good

restaurant nearby after Mitchs haircut. Of course I wasnt going to eat much of anything, but it


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was nice being together. Mike had just returned home from finalizing his moms estate, so he

had had an emotional day and appreciated being together, too.

This was the first time I mentioned writing this book. I have a very close group of friends

online called, The Garden. Weve been friends since Carter was born, and its difficult to convey

how close we are. There are about 40 of us in a private, online group. All of us have children

born in March of 2004; thats our common bond. Other than that, we are quite diverse. We come

from all over the world, have different religious beliefs, have different educational backgrounds,

and have different economic levels. We respect each others differences, have celebrated each

others successes, and have supported each other through difficult times, such as divorces,

illnesses, and deaths. Most of us have met each other in real life at one time or another,

sometimes multiple times. We know each other incredibly well. These women have been an

amazing support to me through this journey. However, when I first shared the struggles of my

eating disorder with The Garden, one woman, Marianne, didnt understandeating disorders and

asked some awkward questions. She believed, as so many people do, that eating disorders only

affected teen girls who wanted to be skinny to look like models. She didnt realize that there was

so much more to it than that. Once we started talking about it more, she sent me a private

message and suggested I write a book. It was something I had already been thinking about, but

she really encouraged me. Marianne, was apologetic about her previous comments, but said that

she felt that many people felt the same way she did simply because of ignorance. There needs to

be more education about eating disorders, particularly about eating disorders and older women. I

agree with her. I had the same misconceptions, and I was living with the disorder.

Thursday was my last day of school. I didnt tell students I had an eating disorder; I just

told them I was having health issues. I love my students, and they love me. We form a close


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relationship throughout the year each year, and I knew they were worried about me, and I felt

guilty (again) for not telling them what was going on, but I couldnt.I didnt want to tell them

about the eating disorder unless I had time to really talk to them about eating disorders. I knew

some (most) of them would have the same misconceptions as Marianne, and I would want to talk

about how my issues are rooted in a need for control, guilt, perfectionism, and body issues, too,

of course. I didnt even understand this myself early on, so it would have been impossible to

explain to my students. I had 2 autistic students in my classes, and one of them very awkwardly,

but sweetly blurted out a question about me dying of cancer, so I set that straight and let them

know that I didnt have cancer, and that I expected to recover and return in a couple of weeks. Of

course I didnt return for 6 weeks, and that caused them to worry quite a bit.

I went to an appointment with Dr. D, my gynecologist, during my conference period, for

a weight check and to let him know that I was going in to in-patient treatment. I only weighed 81

pounds, so Dr. D wasnt happy, but he was thrilled that I was going into the treatment program.

He was so kind to me, and so was Tracy, his nurse. They both gave me hugs and assured me that

I was doing the right thing. As Monday was getting closer, I was getting more nervous.

That night I had dinner with three very close friends, Rachel (who teaches with me and

Ive mentioned before), Amber, and Brandie. We used to all teach together, but Amber and

Brandie have moved on to other schools. We are all still very close, and try to have dinner every

other month. We always go to Pappadeaux, a nice seafood restaurant that is a good halfway point

between our homes. It was so nice to sit and talk about normal, everyday things for awhile.

Brandie has a toddler, and it was so nice hearing about her daughter. Hearing about Rachels and

Ambers lives added normalcy to my bizarre life, too.


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Eventually we got around to talking about my stuff. I told them about wanting to write

this book, and they were all thrilled. Its so nice having encouraging friends! Then they noticed

that I wasnt eating. I was picking at my cup of gumbo, but wasnt really eating any of it. I can

be completely honest with them, so I explained to them that after my horrible experience in the

ER last week, I was afraid that the treatment program wasnt going to take me. They were

shocked. They asked me what I weighed, and I told them. They flat-out told me how terrible I

looked, but tried to put it nicely. They told me that I didnt need to worry, that the program was

going to take me, but I still wasnt sure. Thats why I had been restricting food so much more. I

was so worried that I was going to get there on Monday morning and they were going to look at

me and say, You arent anorexic enough; youre still an acceptable weight. Go home. I just

couldnt eat.

Next, we discussed logistics. Mike would text Rachel when the hospital accepted me, as

the girls were sure they would, and then Rachel would text the others. Then we talked about

visits. Mike was taking me to the hospital on Monday, and Amber would visit on Tuesday. We

planned our next dinner for late May and put it on the calendar, not knowing I would still be in

treatment and would have to postpone it. The best part of the evening was laughing. Even when I

was so terrified about what the next couple of weeks would hold for me, and I was an emotional

wreck, I could laugh with these women. It was exactly what I needed, what we all needed. We

cried, too. Thats the beauty of friendship. We can share so honestly. We all walked to our cars

together; Rachel and I rode together. Then we hugged good-bye emotionally.

Friday was a challenging, emotional day. It was Good Friday, so we were out of school. I

went for a pedicure and lunch with Mom. We talked about what the next two weeks would

entail. I had a packet that told me about what I could and could not take to the treatment


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program, and I shared that with her. She and Lamar (my dad) planned to visit me, and I was very

glad of that. There would also be group therapy, but at the time I didnt know much about it. We

enjoyed our pedicures, and I really appreciated having nice toes when I was in treatment. We had

lunch at El Phoenix. Again, I didnt eat much, which disappointed Mom. After lunch we went to

Half Priced Books and got Mike a book on anorexia, a journal for me, and a couple of other

books for me to read while in treatment.

After I dropped Mom off at home, I really wanted to meet with Father George, so I went

by the church a couple of times that afternoon, but he wasnt there. I went grocery shopping to

get ready for Easter, and then hung out with the boys. Carter wasnt feeling well, and he was sad

and a bit clingy because of me leaving on Monday.

4

On Saturday morning, I went to the church and found Father George all by himself in the

chapel. Hes a South African priest who turned 80 in January. Weve known each other for just

over 10 years, and are very close. Hes been to thehouse for dinner a couple of times, and I am

always comforted by talking to him. He loves me and he shows it, and I love him, too. When I

got to the church, I found him in the chapel reading silently to himself. No one else was there. I

had passed Deacon Vic and his wife, Jan, in the parking lot as I was walking in. They were

leaving. They are good friends of mine, as well, but I hadnt told them yet what was going on.

After greeting Father George, I asked if we could talk for a minute, and we sat in the pews

together. The church was dark, but we could see from the light coming through the stained glass

windows. It was so peaceful. I reminded him of my struggles with anorexia which he

remembered, and he said that he had been concerned as he watched me waste away each week.


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He held my hand, and I started to cry. I told him about the past week, and explained about the

decision to go into inpatient treatment. He asked questions about where it was, and how long,

and then asked about Mike and the boys. First, he wanted to know the details about the logistics

of everything, then he wanted to be sure the family was going to be cared for, and then he

focused the rest of the time on me. He was so kind and supportive. He asked if I wanted my

name in the Prayersfor the Faithful, and explained that he was asking because people at

church care about me and would ask questions when they heard my name. I told him that I was

still struggling with issues of shame and guilt, and that going public forced me to deal with

those issues. He was so kind to me, telling me the same things that everyone else had about how

I shouldnt be ashamed, but then he told me that he had always admired me for my poise. He

went on to compliment the way I am raising the boys. He asked me if this (anorexia) was about

my appearance, and I told him that some of it was, but that most of it was about control, and we

talked about that for a bit. He told me that I was beautifulit was so nice getting compliments

from a man in a completely non-sexual manner, and said I could gain a ton of weight and still be

beautiful. Then he asked if I wanted to be anointed (Anointing of the Sick) and I said that I

did. I had never experienced that before. I had seen it many times, but never heard the prayers

up close. The prayers are very specific to the needs of the individual, and the oils are applied on

the forehead and palms in the formation of a cross. He gathered the oils and prayer book that he

needed, and then came back to the pew where we had been sitting. It was incredibly powerful,

and left me feeling so much stronger. After that, he hugged me and we told each other we loved

each other. Before I left, he told me he didnt have a clue where the hospital was in Dallas, but

that if I needed him to call him and he would find it. That made me smile. When I left the

church, I felt so much more at peace with my decision to go into treatment.


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Later that day, Martha and Amber came to visit. Martha is a good friend who is a retired

teacher and author. Ive always admired her quiet strength. Life has been difficult for her, but she

has a wonderful relationship with God, and that gets her through the challenging times. Ive

learned so much from her about faith and perseverance. Amber is much younger than Martha,

closer to my age, but has that same quality about her. Amber is one of the women I went to

Pappadeaux with for dinner a few nights ago. Martha brought me a hanging basket, a notepad,

and some cute Easter decorations. The best part of her visit, though, was her hugs. Amber

brought me 14 cards, one to open each day in treatment. I loved it! Her hugs were also amazing.

We had a great visit.

I had a nice day with the boys, and then got ready for mass. Mike got home in time to go

with me instead of meeting me there. It was a 3 hour Easter Vigil, and I was serving as a

Eucharistic Minister. I love being a Eucharistic Minister; it makes me feel so close to Jesus and

to the church community. It was a beautiful, but long, service. I loved being there, but I didnt

feel well. My side and back were really hurting, and I was very nauseous, probably because of

the gallstones. I kept noticing Jane across the church, and wanted to talk to her, but never got the

chance. Jane is an older parishioner that Im friends with. She and I had been emailing back and

forth, and she had been extremely insightful and encouraging. I was very shaky and weak when

serving the Eucharist, and it made me nervous because I was worried about dropping the Body of

Christ, but as always, I loved serving. After mass we went to On the Border. I ate a little of

Mikes food (chicken enchiladas and beans); it was so good, and I got a Dr. Pepper. As tasty as it

was, I ate very little. Then we went home and I went to bed. Each night for several nights I cried

as I went to sleep because I knew I wasnt going to be able to fall asleep with Mike in the weeks


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to come. I love knowing he is next to me, and I dreaded continuing this journey without him by

my side. The next day was Easter, my last day at home.

I woke up very early on Easter, crying. I was so happy to get to see all of my family that

day, but I was so scared and sad to be leaving the next day. I called the treatment program that

morning to confirm going in the next day. They said they would be ready for me, but I was still

worried they were going to turn me away. It was awful living in constant fear that no one else

understood. Even I understood on some level that it was irrational, but the eating disorder kept

me fearful.

The boys liked their Easter surprisesDr. Pepper and Reeces for Carter and $15 to go to

Simply Burgers for Mitch (gave up meat). I like to get them whatever they give up for Lent. I

needed to pack, Rachel was coming over for a bit, I was going to Skype with Till, and I needed

to make beans and get ready for the Easter celebration. Till is a foreign exchange student from

Germany who lived with us for a year 6 years ago. We have been very good about keeping in

touch, and we are even closer now than we were when he lived with us. I was so emotional all

day long. Mike and the boys were doing yard work and outside chores most of the day.

Till and I got to Skype, and I explained all about my eating disorder, and what I knew

about the treatment program. It was the most serious conversation we had ever had. He was so

concerned, and wanted to know everything. He respectfully asked many questions, and I

answered them as best I could. I cried, of course. I was crying so much that weekend. He said he

would keep in touch with Mike to see how I was doing. We both told each other how much we

love each other before getting off of Skype.


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Rachel came over and had very exciting news; she got engaged! I was so pleased for her,

and was so relieved to have some happy news! She and her fianc had been dating for years, and

they had already been planning the wedding, but it was still so exciting to hear that the

engagement was official. Our whole family was thrilled for her. She brought me some goodies

for treatment, toobooks, and a journal. We visited for a little while, and then hugged, said we

loved each other, and she left. I had a wonderful, but sad conversation with Kayce, too. She had

been so supportive and encouraging this whole time. She and Mike were the 2 people who I was

most truthful with. I was honest with everyone about everything except my eating disorder, but

now I was trying to be honest about that, as well. With Kayce and Mike, I was trying to actually

explain how I was feeling, even when I didnt understand what was going on. They were both so

patient with me. I was extremely upset about not being able to talk to Kayce while in treatment.

Her birthday was the next week, too. I had already bought and mailed her birthday gift and card,

but I couldnt imagine not speaking to her on her birthday. I sent her a colorful bird feeder and a

bird house to go with it, and I knew she would love both of them. I was disappointed that I

wouldnt get to hear the joy in her voice when she opened the gift. I thought the bird feeder was

appropriate since I was learning to re-feed. She had been so good to me; I wanted to do

something special for her. The restrictions of being in treatment were beginning to make

themselves known, and I wasnt even there, yet.

Around 4:30, family started to arrive to celebrate Easter. My cousin, Kris, and his wife,

Amber, arrived first with their children. Then my uncle who we fondly call Cockle and his

wife, Valerie, arrived. Eventually, everyone was there: my mom and Lamar, and my brother,

Brian, and his wife and daughters. I was a wreck. Mom and I had prepared most of the food, and

everyone else had brought something, too. We had a wonderful time visiting. I didnt eat much


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of anything, and I know everyone noticed. I was the elephant in the room. My oldest niece,

Ashlyn, who was 15 at the time, told me she hoped that I would do really well in the treatment

program, and I started crying. I felt so bad for her. I just couldnt help myself.Overall though, it

was a nice afternoon and evening with family. However, when people started leaving I fell to

pieces as I told each family goodbye. When my mom left, she started sobbing, which caused me

to fall apart, as well. It was not pleasant.

The rest of the evening was very calm. I tucked Carter into bed, which was also sad since

I knew I wouldnt be able to do that again for awhile. He asked more questions about what I

would be doing during the next couple of weeks, and I answered the questions as best I could. He

seemed to feel better after we talked. We went through our normal bedtime routine for the last

time for awhilethe Angel of God prayer, the song in theLove You Foreverchildrens book,

and then we always sing Silent Night together. Ever since Carter was born, Ive sung Silent

Night to him because I love the relationship that Mary has with Jesus. I like to think of them

when Jesus was first born, and then as He was growing up. I often pray to Mary for guidance as I

parent the boys, and Silent Night is a song that makes me feel very close to Mary and Jesus.

Ive shared this with Carter, and ever since he was old enough to learn the words to song, he has

joined me in singing Silent Night each night. Most nights the whole family sings it together.

Its a special time.

Then Mike, Mitch, and I hung out watching TV the rest of the evening. We all went to

bed at a reasonable hour, and Mitch gave me a long hug goodnight. Mike and I got into bed and

talked for awhile first and just enjoyed being together. I didnt want the night to end since I was

so fearful of the next morning. Finally, I gave in and went to sleep, or tried to. I didnt sleep

much since I knew it was my last night at home.


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5

Inpatient Registration Day. The beginning. I was terrified. I hadnt slept much the night

before, but I had slept some. I got up early to wake Mitch up so that we could say our goodbyes

before he went to school. It was emotional, but we didnt shed too many tears. Then I washed my

hair, and started drying it.

I should probably stop here and explain my hair, because it will come up again many

times. I get more compliments on my hair than on anything else. Everyone else loves my hair,

but its a huge pain in the ass.Its Hoda Kotb hair.I have a love-hate relationship with my hair.

Its extremely thick, coarse, and in its natural state it is very frizzy and exceptionally curly, tight

kinky curls. Throughout my childhood, hair care products had not evolved, yet, so I was pretty

hideous. Then as an adult, I went through a transformation. For many years I wore my hair curly,

using quality products. I looked like I had a spiral perm. Again, everyone loved my hair. I liked it

better because finally it wasnt frizzy, but it still wasnt brushable. Then about ten years ago I

began chemically straightening my hair. I have that done every eleven weeks, and my hair is

extremely healthy, so it doesnt look fried. Even with having it straightened, I still have to dry it

with a round brush, which takes forever, and then flat-iron it. So, since my hair is so dry, I only

wash it every four or five days. It takes about two hours from the time I get into the shower until

Im finished flat-ironing it, but then on the days in between I can get ready pretty quickly. My

life revolves around planning when I need to wash my hair. It was important for me to wash my

hair that morning because I didnt know what to expect once I went inpatient. I was quite

worried about that. When it was time for Carter to go to school, he came in and interrupted my

hair drying session to say goodbye. It was also tough, but considering the occasion it went pretty

well.


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psychiatric ward. I knew I was going inpatient, but I hadnt really thought about what that meant.

I guess I thought there would be a nice place for eating disorder patients. Signing that paper

meant that I would be a mental patient. For the rest of my life I would know that I had been a

mental patient. That was hard to swallow. Im a proud, intelligent woman. I teach AP English.

How could I be a patient in the psych ward? However, I knew that was where I needed to be. My

hand shook as I signed that form.

They put me in a wheelchair and took me up to the fifth floor where the psych ward was.

Mike went with me. The hospital attendant who was pushing my wheelchair was very nice.

When we got to the fifth floor there were two sets of double doors facing each other. They were

all locked. The attendant needed to see where I was supposed to be, so Mike and I waited with

the attendant while he pushed a button on a speaker to ask. While waiting, I stared at the double

doors in disbelief. I simply couldnt believe this was my life. I wanted to jump up and run away.

Before long the attendant opened one set of doors, and we entered. I was shaking and my pulse

was racing as we entered the psych ward. It was so surreal. During the day they separated the

patients. On the side where I would be the rooms were mostly for addictsdrugs, alcohol, eating

disorders, or other calmer mental issues. On the other side of the unit were rooms for

schizophrenics and other more severe mental issues. In the evenings they opened the doors

between the units and the patients mingled. I dont know why.This was evening, so there were

all kinds of interesting people everywhere. I was taken into an intake room with Mike where I

answered a lot of questions that I had already told the doctor downstairs earlier. After that, Mike

left. He told me later that leaving me there was one of the hardest things he had ever done. He

also hadnt realized that I would actually be in the psych ward, and seeing the other patients

roaming around and me standing there in the middle of them when he left completely freaked


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him out. He wanted to protect me, to take me home and never look back. We both knew that I

desperately needed help, though.

After he left, I was taken to another room for a body, clothing, and luggage check. I had

to strip completely naked, and a female nurse checked my body thoroughly to be sure I wasnt

harming myself. We were in a very sterile room. There was nothing comforting about it at all.

She was nice about it, but its difficult to maintain any dignity while something like that is going

on. I dont self-harm, so there was nothing for her to find. While she was doing that, another staff

member was going through my belongings and removing everything that wasnt allowed all

sharp objects, all liquids, ropes (the belt from my robe), medications, and my bras (because of

the underwire). Most of these things were placed in a locker in the nurses station, and I was able

to check them out at certain times and return them, like when I needed to get ready in the

mornings. However, some things I could not have at all, like the medications. They had to order

my migraine medication (and charge me for it) and dispense it to me rather than giving me the

prescription that I brought. Also, I couldnt have my bras back at all. That was awful! Also, if I

wanted to shave, a nurse or other staff member had to watch me while I used the razor, and then

when I was finished I had to hand the razor to her. Because I was an eating disorder patient, I

wasnt allowed to use the restroom alone. The door to the restroom in my room was locked, and I

had to ask a staff member to unlock it if I needed to use the restroom. Then I had to show them

the toilet before I flushed each time. They wanted to be sure we werent purging. They didnt

lock it overnight, though. There were lots of rules; these are only a few. I had to constantly

remind myself that this was for my own good. Constantly.

Finally, they took me to my room. I didnt have a roommate at first. I got settled in, and

began learning the rules. While I was getting settled, my nurse came in and introduced herself.


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She was very kind, and told me that she had struggled with an eating disorder in the past, so she

understood how I felt, and what I was going through. She told me to let her know if I needed

anything, even if she wasnt the nurse assigned to me. I appreciated her kindnessand

understanding so much. She left me to finish unpacking the few things that hadnt been taken

away, and to get back to the things that she needed to do. After unpacking, I decided to grade

papers. I brought a ton of essays to grade. Soon my roommate arrived. I got lucky. She was also

an eating disorder patient who was a teacher. Shes much younger than me, but we got along

very well. That night I carefully changed clothes with my back to the door in case someone

walked in. People were constantly walking in, checking on us. It wasnt until a couple of days

later that I noticed the camera in the room. It didnt matter which way I faced to change clothes.

There was no privacy.

6

WEEK ONE:

Tuesday. April 22 was Kayces birthday, and my first day in the treatment program. I

learned that I could use phones on the unit, there were 3, at certain times. I didnt think I was

going to be able to catch Kayce that day because of her schedule, but I did get to talk to Mike

briefly and ask him to call Amber to ask her to bring me bras without underwire. Amber was

planning to visit me that night, and I really needed bras. I felt so exposed without wearing a bra.

I woke up early with a migraine. A staff member came in each morning between 5:30 and

6:00 to check vitals, and that first morning my heart rate was 106. Its usually in the low 50s. I

figured it was because of the pain. It took an hour and a half to get pain medication for my

migraine because they had to get it approved by a doctor, and it also took a very long time to get


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my stuff out of my locker so that I could get ready for the day, so I stayed in the room and talked

to my roommate. The rules seem to be enforced randomly. She was able to keep her underwire

bras, and I was able to keep a bunch of colored pens. Pens apparently arent usually allowed.

Eventually I got ready and then went to the common area to wait until it was time to go to the

treatment program. While waiting, I met a man, who had brain surgery and got addicted to pain

medication. He was very nice.

There were only three eating disorder patients on the psych ward that week, my

roommate and I, and another patient who kept to herself at first. She was 22, and had been in

treatment for a couple of weeks already. She had a feeding tube in her nose, and was very thin.

We had to wait for a staff member to walk us over to another part of the hospital, the 6thfloor, to

the treatment program.

Once we got to the treatment program, the atmosphere was completely different. It was

warm and inviting. There were plants everywhere, and art on all of the walls. Three other women

who were outpatient joined us. Immediately I noticed that I wasnt out of place. When I was at

dinner with Rachel, Brandie, and Amber, we talked about how I would probably be the only

patient who wasnt a teenager, and I would end up teaching all of them about To Kill a

Mockingbirdwhile we were in treatment. I noticed right away that these women were of varying

ages, and that a couple of them were older than me. One was in her early 50s, another was in her

upper 40s, and the third was 19. Some were anorexic, some bulimic, or both. I had been so

worried that I would be the old woman with a bunch of 19 and 20 year olds, but that was not the

case at all. We were quite diverse, and it stayed that way as women filtered in and out of the

program. Its amazing how close you get to each other ina program like this, too, and age ceases

to matter, anyway.


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First, we had breakfast. Meals were brought in on trays and were individualized

according to nutritional and medical needs. Staff members eat with patients, and offer

encouragement and guidance. My tray had more food on it than I usually ate in an entire day.

There was a blueberry muffin, cottage cheese, peaches, milk, and water. The rule was that each

person must eat and drink everything on the tray. We had to do milk checks where we would

show our neighbor that the milk carton was empty by holding it upside down over our mouths.

We also had to do yogurt checks and butter checks to show that we ate everything. The meal

had to be completed within 45 minutes, and we tried to chat about our lives throughout the meal,

making the meal as normal as possible. We also encouraged each other. Mealtime was not easy.

That first meal was daunting. I sat down at my place and stared at my tray, surprised at

the amount of food. Did people normal people really eat such huge breakfasts? I got to know the

other patients and staff members a bit through the conversation at breakfast, and I did make it

through the meal, though it was challenging.

Next we had process group. It was nice. We gathered in the main gathering room, and

each person filled out a form for the day. It was a short form where each person just checked in,

stating how they slept, what meds they had taken, if they had acted on their eating disorder, and

what they wanted to discuss that day. Then the forms were turned in to Dr. B (the therapist), and

to the social worker. We started by centering ourselves mindfully and then going around the

room sharing our feelings and what we wanted to talk about that day. Then we took turns

actually discussing whatever we wanted to talk about. Because it was my first day, they just

asked me to share the story of my eating disorder. That first day I kept it very simple, stating that

I had been anorexic as an older teen, bulimic for about 14 years after that, had about 8 healthy

years (I later determined that to be false), and now slipped back into anorexia with a vengeance.


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They asked a few questions about laxative use (none), if I ever binged (nope), and if Im

currently purging (nope). I learned some about the other patients, and liked them a lot. It was so

comforting being with other women who understood how I felt. No one really understands eating

disorders, but at least these women understood how lost I felt.

The social worker had a DBT session next which I didnt understand at all because Dr. P,

the psychiatrist in the treatment program, wanted to meet with me. We went over my history.

She seemed to be quite competent and very kind.

Lunch was more challenging than breakfast because I had to eat food that I didnt like,

and I was still full from breakfast. I was served roast beef, broccoli, French fries, apples, tea, and

water. I have never liked green vegetables, except for asparagus. The broccoli was awful, and it

was a ton of food. Also, I havent been able to eat red meat for years because it gives me

diarrhea, and it did again. My stomach was a mess all late afternoon and evening.

Art therapy was next. I loved art therapy, and we had it every day for an hour and a half!

This first day, the art therapist had each of us choose an oddly shaped piece of paper. Then we

decorated the piece to symbolize ourselves. When we were finished decorating, we put all of the

6 pieces together like a puzzle. One piece was upside down, so the puzzle wouldnt fit together

perfectly, but we decided we liked it that way since we arent perfect either. It was interesting to

see all of our pieces. Mine was a collage of colorful flowers because Im a happy person who

loves nature and the outdoors. All of the pieces were very colorful, and many of them had a

nature theme. When we were finished processing, the art work was hung on the wall and stayed

there the entire time I was in treatment. Art was everywhere throughout the program, and it was

beautiful.


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Yoga was next, and it was very relaxing. I had a bone density test next which was an easy

test.

Dinner was the final part of the day, and it was rough. I was missing Mike terribly, so I

cried. It was also a lot of foodbaked fish, carrots, potatoes, yogurt, fruit, tea, and water. I ate it

all, but it took the entire 45 minutes. Everyone was very encouraging. After the meal, I felt very

sick and my side hurt. I tried standing and deep breathing, but still felt sick. The nurse took me

into another room where I got sick in the trashcan. It was awful. Then I had diarrhea. I felt awful.

The nurse told me that it was a rule that if you throw up a meal, then you have to drink a Boost, a

terribly thick shake-type of drink that is full of vitamins and minerals. That seemed so unfair to

me. I didnt throw up on purpose. She told me I could wait and have the Boost as my evening

snack, but then they forgot to give it to me. Yay! They took me back to the psych ward in a

wheelchair, and I just rested quietly in my room until . . . Mike called! I was so happy to talk to

him. We had a great conversation even though I cried some. When we got off of the phone, I

called the boys. It was wonderful hearing their voices, too.

Visiting hours were from 7:30-8:30, and Amber and I both cried when she came to visit.

She brought me three very pretty bras. I hadnt had pretty bras in years. I only wore minimizing

bras that I had to special order since Im not really large enough to wear minimizing bras. I hate

my boobs. Its partof my eating disorder. Anyway, it was a step in the right direction for me to

be happy about the pretty bras that werent going to make me look smaller. We had a wonderful

visit until she had to leave at 8:30. We hugged for a long time before she left.

Wednesday. I woke up without a headache, so that made the day better than the day

before, already. I felt well-rested and optimistic, although my heart rate was still high (94). I was


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adjusting to the rules, but hated that I couldnt go outside and had been forbidden all exercise. I

was also on limited activity. Basically, I couldnt do much of anything except walk slowly and

sit around. This particular rule really bothered my roommate. She exercised a lot, and had a

problem with all of the rules really. We werent allowed to have caffeine or breath mintsor gum.

I guess anorexics drink caffeine instead of eating, and gum and mints work the same way. I

know that I had been drinking hot tea constantly instead of eating. My roommate couldnt take

the rules, so she decided to check herself out that morning. It made me sad because she clearly

needed help. We exchanged information so that we could keep in touch.

I met with Dr. P, the psychiatrist, before heading over to the program. She informed me

that I needed iron because I was quite anemic, my potassium was low, and I had osteopenia (a

level below osteoporosis). I was also dehydrated, which was odd since they gave me fluids in the

ER. She decided to give me various vitamins and lots of fluids, and said that re-feeding should

help. She was also going to take blood several times a week to monitor everything. She was also

going to monitor my heart because of my heart rate. Hearts can be so damaged by anorexia, but

re-feeding can cause the heart rate to change, too. Then we discussed my treatment plan. She

informed me that most people stay six weeks, full day for some of it, and then transitioning to

half days. I had it in my head that I would only be there for two weeks at that point, so I wasnt

paying much attention to that part of the discussion. Then she told me that I could discharge from

the psych ward on Friday (Yay!), go home for the weekend, and check back in to a hotel that was

at the hospital on Sunday between 2:00 and 4:00. I could stay at the hospital hotel all week and

go to the treatment program each day. I was so excited about getting out of the psych ward and

going home for the weekend!


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I was the only one from the unit (the psych ward) to go over to the treatment program that

day. My roommate was checking out, and the other eating disorder patient refused to go that day.

When I got there, we ate breakfast. It was a difficult meal. One of the patients who I really liked

was upset because some of the staff seemed to be playing favorites at mealtimes, allowing some

patients to not have to eat everything, while forcing others to eat every single speck of food. We

all participated in the discussion. I felt sorry for the patient who brought up the issue. She was so

upset.

During Process Group, we discussed Family Group Therapy which would occur the next

afternoon. One of the younger patients didnt want to invite her parents because she was worried

about what they would say, and she didnt like discussing her eating disorder in front of her

father. I told her that I would agree to invite my parents if she invited hers. She asked me if I

would invite them, and if I thought they would come. I told her that if I invited them to come

right then, they would be there in an hour. She asked me if I would sit next to her during Group

Therapy, and I told her I would. I was also inviting Mike. I pointed out to her that no matter our

ages, we all have fear. We could support each other. We made a deal. Because we both had

people coming for the first time, it meant we would have to share the history of our eating

disorders in the group. It would be difficult. The other patients were encouraged to stay and share

their stories, too. The staff said that it helps to take power away from the eating disorder every

time you tell your story. Also, it helps families to hear all of the different stories so they can

learn more about eating disorders since each persons journey is different.

That afternoon everyone had places to go, so I was by myself with the various staff

members. It was fine, but I liked it better when other peers were with me.


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When I got back to the unit, my nurse had a surprise for me, mail! I was so happy. I had

several letters and cards from friends of mine in The Garden. After reading the mail, my nurse

and I chatted for awhile; he and I got along well. Then I called Mike and the boys to see how

they were doing, and just to hear their voices. I missed them so much. I had called Mike that

morning to tell him about getting to come home on Friday, so all of us were happy. I graded a set

of papers after that, and read for a bit while I waited for visitors. Brian (my brother) and Tom (a

friend from church) were coming to visit that night. They both arrived at 7:30 sharp. I was so

excited! Tom, Brian, and I sat in the common area and visited for awhile. I told them about my

bad day the day before, and about my better day that day. I also told them about the plan to go

home over the weekend and stay in the hospital hotel next week. They were interested in the

meals and rules, too. Tom seemed a bit horrified, and Brian was fascinated. After a bit I asked a

staff member if we could go into a conference room because Tom had brought me communion,

and she unlocked a room for us. It was on the other side of the unit where the more unstable

patients rooms are. It was interesting walking over there. Once we were in the room, it was

much more peaceful. Tom and I prayed together and I received communion. It was exactly what

I needed. Then the three of us chatted about the book that I had been reading. It was nice to talk

about something normal. Before I knew it, it was time for them to leave.

After they left, I decided I needed to tackle the problem of shaving. I usually shave my

legs every night. I hate being hairy, and have a hard time sleeping if I dont shave before going

to bed. They took my razor away when I checked into the psych ward, though, so I hadnt shaved

since Monday morning before we left home. I felt like a bear. I asked a nurse if I could shave,

and she told me she could come to my room with my razor in a little while, so I waited. After a

bit, she came to my room. She was the kind nurse who had told me on the first night that she had


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recovered from an eating disorder. She still followed the rules, though. I took a shower, careful

not to get my hair wet (remember my hair issues), and she had to watch me shave. Once I was

finished shaving, she took the razor and let me finish showering alone. I would have preferred a

bath, but the bathtub wouldnt hold water. I guess they didnt want us to be able to drown

ourselves. I didnt shave again until I got home.

Thursday. 4:00 a.m. and I was awakened when someone came in for bed checks. Every

night all night long a staff member comes in every 20 minutes to be sure patients are in bed and

alright. I slept with earplugs, but still woke up. There was also a light in the room that could not

be turned off. They were not the best sleeping conditions. I tried to go back to sleep, but

couldnt. At 5:15, a tech came in and gave me a gown to change into because Mondays and

Thursdays were weigh-in days. First though, she took my blood pressurelying down, sitting,

and standing. My blood pressure was low, as it always is, and my heart rate was high again. I

was blind-weighed, so I didnt find out my weight.

I got up, got dressed, and graded some essays. Then I ventured out to the common area. I

waited until it seemed to be a good time, and then got supplies out of my locker. It was difficult

to know when it would be a good time because the staff always seemed busy. After getting ready

and returning the supplies, I read my book until Dr. P called for me. We met, and everything was

set for discharging the next day and returning on Sunday.

It was a good morning in the program. Melanie, the social worker was very helpful with

the paperwork for discharging, and she made my hotel reservations in the hospital. Meals went

alright, except that I had to eat prunes at breakfast. I couldnt believe the food that I was having

to eat! I met with the nutritionist and got to pick three hate foods that I would never have to


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eat. I thought about it very carefully. I hate all non-starchy vegetables except for asparagus, and I

dont eat salads at all

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Acceptable Anorexic