I suppose this is a good time to share my story. Lately others seem to be especially interested in hearing what I have to say: how it all started, how sick it's made me, esp. that, how many people have tried to help, and how I'm living now. Isn't it interesting how no one wanted to listen to me before, when I really needed someone, and now when perhaps it's too late, everyone wants to know my secrets. Suddenly I'm wanted, or is it just my anorexia that's wanted?
My mom has been eating disordered since she was a teen. Last I heard, she hasn't changed. At 17 she was hospitalized for eating lemon rinds for 3 wks straight. I did hear that she landed herself in the hospital for a week last year because she of dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Other than that, she hasn't admitted to any other treatment.
When to starve, binge, and purge consumes my mom's heart and mind, so much that there is little room for anything else. My brother and I came from this shell of a body. There was little hope for our good health from the very beginning.
Mom raised us to eat and do as she did: half a head of lettuce for lunch, popcorn for a snack, purge, and then cereal for dinner, laxatives. This is a simplified statement of the incredibly complicated, restrictive rituals that grew to consume my life especially. At my 6th birthday I was more concerned with the size of my thighs and the thought of having to eat birthday cake than the number of friends that would show up my party. I was up at 7AM during summer break to do aerobics for an hour before spending the rest of the day running, swimming, and hating myself for eating a biscuit at dinner. My rituals and restrictions continued to grow as I did. Once my therapist asked me to list my rituals. There were over 100.
In 4th grade the first result of my destructive behavior kept me out of school for over a month. With my weakened immune system, I caught strep throat, which to my pleasure, destroyed my appetite. I quit eating completely and became to weak to stand in just a matter of days. My mom camped out on the sofa with me for the entire month. That sofa had become my world because I couldn't willingly remove myself from it. Slowly I began to eat a few saltine crackers a day, then finding the strength that only a child's body could regain, I returned to school.
That was the first and only recognized consequence of my behavior, other than my thin frame, for years to come. What I didn't know was that my bones were not developing as they should, while my eating disorder developed into my entire being. Most of my mom's friends were anorexic, so I often overheard them discussing weight-loss and purging tips. Mother even taught three of my cousins how to vomit whenever they felt guilty for eating, which was always. One of those cousins is now 46 yrs. old. She has no hair, a colostomy, false teeth, osteoporosis, constant pain, five miscarriages, and a grave with tombstone for the day her hell ends. When I was a little girl, this cousin was gorgeous in my eyes, bone thin, blond hair, and full of energy. She was one of my role models. What a small chance I had.
My weight-obsessed self destruction continued throughout middle and high school and two years of college before a nurse practitioner at the University of South Carolina told me I was anorexic. What??? But I thought I didn't have a problem. I wasn't doing anything different from everyone I grew up with, so how could this woman tell me I have a disease?! Doesn't everyone limit their intake to 500-1000 cal. a day or ride two miles on a stationary bike when they eat a cookie? Isn't it healthy to exercise three hours a day? Confusing messages. Who was right, my mom or this woman I had just met?
I was beginning to notice how women in my classes ate lunch and snacks, and wondered why I would pass up all the restaurants in Columbia to go home shaking from starvation. If I hadn't started feeling the effects of long-term anorexia, I likely would have not listened to this person and died. I believe it was much more than fate that had our eyes open to my eating disorder at the same time. None of my other doctors had ever said more to me than to "eat my cookies" and "relax a little more". They had never mentioned an eating disorder plagued me. Why hadn't they told me I was abnormal? Why hadn't my parents helped me? That's the biggest question, and one that will likely go unanswered.
That revelation was in 1996, and since then I have been in continuous treatment with doctors, psychologists, psychiatrists, and dietitians. I've been taken to the ER countless times and hospitalized four times. two well-known facilities I've been to are Renfrew, in Coconut grove, Fl. and the other was Rogers Eating Disorder Center, WI, just last year. I spend over a month in Renfrew and almost 4 months at Rogers. In fact I was at Rogers just last year (Sept. 15, 2003 - Dec.30, 2003).
My prognosis from the Renfrew specialists was 'fair'. How depressing. When I asked them the reason for this little sign of hope, they told me that my eating disorder was a lifestyle, not just a passing disease because my mother had taught me and it was all I knew. My therapist at that time refused to take that prognosis seriously and said she had hope that I will recover. I hold on to that optimism.
Another hospitalization occurred when my heart went into SVT (supraventricular tachycardia). I was more frightened during this hospitalization than any other. Every time I urinated I fainted. Simply put, I was so dehydrated that this loss of bodily fluid was more than I could handle. It's also frightening how quickly and easily I become dehydrated still. The number of ER visits are likely in the 100s. I'm now on temporary disability due to the list of health problems plaguing me. It's hard. Suicide has crossed my mind more than several times, with two attempts, but most days I want to live. It's just difficult to cope with the pain, illnesses, lack of family support, and general lack of societal understanding and support.
I now have a list of health problems: osteoporosis, irregular heartbeat, weakened immune system, digestive disorders, scoliosis (from a crushed vertebra), and chronic pain from past fractures (6 in 7 yrs.). In 1996, my brother broke four of my ribs when hugging me. In 1998, just five days after getting my BSN, I rolled over in the bed and crushed a vertebra. That's where a lot of my pain stems from these days. My doctors suggest that I not run, use gym equipment, horseback ride, jump, or go on amusement park rides for fear I will break a bone. Even swimming hurts. And being in the ocean, which I love, has to be limited to a few minutes because the waves crashing on me bruise my bones so badly and put so much strain on my wasted muscles that I'm in pain for days to follow. Sometimes I just have to push those limits, though. However, the doctors have been right, because every time I've gone against their orders I end up injured. As I'm typing this, my neck and back ache despite two painpills and two muscle relaxers.
I am so tired. Tired of hurting, of sickness, of people's ignorance, and of wondering why my mom is healthy, to best of our knowledge, and all of her victims are suffering. Another unanswerable question.
I'm doing ok today, ed-wise.I have an incredible therapist (R) that looks beyond my plate and makes me work, which is the only way I'll stay alive. That's scary sometimes, knowing that without help it's unlikely I would eat or take care of myself properly. I've grown in many ways since '96. I've passed that incredibly frightening 100 lb mark, but more importantly I've started to protect myself from harmful stimuli and people. I want to be normal, and yet I don't. Will I be looked at the same if I look completely normal? I want the normal lifestyle, without the hospital visits and pain. Despite everything I've ever done in therapy, I think one of the most important aspects of my recovery is looking at my therapist, my doctors, and some of my friends, and admiring their lives and their bodies. They are healthy.
So what if my story isn't wanted after I'm healthy? Will I still be heard? Will I still be noticed or admired? Will I still be Lisa?