RecoverED

I asked my doctor one time how long my eating disorder would stay on my record. She said for things like colds and sore throats it would drop off really fast. But the eating disorder would stay on for a long, long time. I remember the look on her face when she told me.

I know what I'm supposed to do. I have had people tell me for over 10 years that I should counsel people with eating disorders. September 3 I start work on my associate's degree with a concentration in psychology. My goal? Ph.D specializing in eating disorders. I've had a phenomenal example of people that have educated me, treated me and that I'm still in contact with today - 3 years after I started active recovery.

Have I had any slip ups? Not in the last year. Do I miss it? .....Sometimes. Is it who I am? Shit, no. Who am I without the eating disorder?

I'm Jennifer Christine Delage. Age 33. I live in a town nicknamed Poky. I knit. I have tattoos. I own a boxer named Koda. She follows me everywhere. I find great thrill in gliding on ice with a 1/8" blade of steel. I can finally answer that one question that people always ask you on interviews - where do you see yourself in 10 years?

Dr. Delage - licensed clinical psychologist specializing in eating disorders.

Try telling me to "Bring It". See what happens.

Thank you for reading, everyone. It's good to be back. 

Buck Up, Baby.

Bad days. Oh yes....Jenn has them. See that? Just tried to detach myself from it.I've often had trouble about blogging about the bad stuff. Don't want to be a bummer. As logically as I know that bad days happen, I don't want mine in focus, But I can't see anything else right now.

And here I sit. Fighting the frustrated tears. The scared to death, frozen tears. Plans of crash dieting swirling in my mind...no, no NO. My therapist - my soundboard - will be leaving soon. Fuck. There is virtually no one else that will listen to me so openly. I feel like I am the only one with this thing....this death sentence. That's what it feels like anyway.

There comes a time when I just can't trudge ahead right now. I am having a bad moment, I am......scared. Big time. Not sure if I'm ready. Want someone to walk with me. Don't think people have time. And I am so envious and  jealous of alcoholics who can just pick up and go to a meeting. More power to them.

Suck it up, hon. Put on your big girl panties and deal. F that. Watch me cry like a baby.

This is a bad day. Consider yourself introduced.

Thanks, as always, for reading.

The Exam Room - Where Possibilities Explode.

I'm always reminded when it's the day for my doctor's appointment that I need to "Get my head out of the clouds, kid. Reality check." Up until this very day, I was seeing my MD on a weekly basis. And I have been for a long time. Accountability check. Today, I graduated to bi-weekly visits. This is no small feat, mind you! It means I have progressed and feel comfortable enough to be on my own that long...without a check.

No stranger to the exam room, I take my proper place and let the MA do her stuff. Pressure, temp. Ooops, she bonked me on the head today with that thing. No biggie. But I always anxiously wait for them to leave. I love to be alone in that exam room while I wait for my doc.

I've looked at magazines, snooped in the cabinets, stolen tongue depressors and returned them, saying I'm sorry. I've looked at the forms in the file on the table, the BMI chart on the door and the instruments that dangle from the wall, waiting to be used. I've taken a nap on the cold, hard linoleum while waiting for test results to come in. I've spun around in circles as I sat on that round stool on wheels designated solely for the physician. I've curled up on the exam table, turned off the lights and covered my head with my sweatshirt....just waiting.

But lately I have designated the exam table to be my own personal blank canvas. That crinkly, annoyingly loud paper that protects the table has become the dumping ground for countless words and drawings by me. Each time I walk into the room, I am greeted with blank paper. I'm never without something to write with. Even if it's a faded pink highlighter.

Often, what I choose to put on the paper is spontaneous. I've asked questions that I've been too afraid to ask...I've drawn a holiday scene. Make a turkey at Thanksgiving by tracing my hand! Often what I write down is meant specifically for my physician. It may be a genuine concern, observations, or in today's case, a personal declaration. I chose to answer the question proposed by pastors Monty and Konrad: How do you want to be remembered? And I just took that and ran with it. Here's what I came up with.

How I Want To Be Remembered.

• I'm bold.
• Defender of those that can't defend themselves.
• Someone that was guided by love.
• Creator of the "Smile Project" - a ground breaking stunt that paved the way for which I am to follow.
• Mother and Guardian of two fine boys.
• Forever curious of people and their personalities, behaviors.
• No matter how much I've chatted with them...always humbled to speak to authors.
• Crazy, obsessed manipulator of words and lover of language.
• Passionate about expression - in whatever medium it comes from.
• Vigilant of my past but refuse to let it identify who I am.
• Teller of the truth - no matter how many times I have suffered in doing so.
• If I have blue ink smudged on the underside of my left hand, it was a good day!
• Marveled and day dreamed about positively being called Recovered.
• Always gave my deepest thanks to the people that have fought and believed on my behalf.
• Responded most to people that challenged me. When asked to "Bring It", I whole-heartedly complied. That phrase became my way of life - my mantra.
• Knitter of things to be given away. Found great things are possible with different yarn weights and colors.
• Aggressively followed and pursued victory for people in Idaho that suffer with eating disorders.
• Some of my biggest influences are former drug addicts.
• Aware of my weaknesses and how they can be utilized in my life in a positive manner.
• Firmly believe that the greatest of all medical doctors will share something about themselves and encourage others. Knitting has become a healing practice in its own right. It still holds the power to calm all corners of my soul.
• Firmly believe that honest compassion involves admitting your own weaknesses and struggles.
• Always admitted fault if I was wrong - no matter how my pride got in the way.
• Never forgot where I came from, who believed in me, who didn't want to bother with me and who actively engaged me. I've taken from EVERYONE.
• Always a little scared, a bit intimidated. May I never get so full of myself that I forget there are bigger things. Like...GOD.
• If you scare me, I will tell you so and tell you why.
• And if you alter my course because of who you are and what I've learned from you....I will tell you so.
• I don't believe in sugar-coating. Just be honest. It is what it is, and you can't cover up the ugly reality.

• The Soul of the Healer. Random, gentle reminder from one MD that treating really is a two-way street. Be mindful of the feelings, frustrations and concerns of the person entrusted to guard your health.

I discovered as I kept writing that not one thing is most important to me. Each one of these things, and ones yet to be discovered, are equally important to me. In each thing listed, I learned something. I was taught. I was encouraged and shown .....mercy. I was inspired. Grateful.. Forever grateful.

I found it a great gift and privilege to be able to reflect on these things now and not as something I did later in life. After all, the things I choose now impact everyone around me later on. Oh....and one more thing.

• May my two sons, Andrew and William, walk in love. Wisdom. Truth. May they love each other, love God and be proud of the young men they will become. And may their influence spread like wildfire.

Thanks very much for reading.

This.....Voice Thing.

Ok, someone help me out here because I'm a little.....unsure?

Finding your voice and using it. I stayed quiet, shy, you name it for so long. They called me crazy girl in high school. I had no interest in communication.

So......now I have cases of really bad verbal diarrhea. My head reels with everything I have to say, and my lips can't keep up. But things are coming out.

While doing my taxes the other day, my husband and I were waiting for our $50 bill so we could go home. An employee asked if we'd like some soda, tea,.....coffee? I told him "I want our $50 so we can go home." Everyone in the waiting room laughed and the employee walked away.

Really? I looked at my husband, confused. What did I say that was so funny? A little while later another employee came along and asked the same freaking thing. My response with a little more irritation was: "I'd like our $50 so we can go home."  Could not believe that everyone laughed ....AGAIN!!

So....I really wasn't rude. I wasn't joking. Straight face, eye contact...whole nine yards. But I was downright honest and it was funny?

Maybe I should reconsider my life as an introvert.

Yah right. I've been yakking lately, so there's no stopping me....

Do you think that maybe once we learn and have the courage to use our voice, we mean business when we do?? I find myself saying things I would have NEVER said 3 years ago. Giving my opinion. Delicately. Honesty with people. Telling people things they should hear...cause I love them.

But what the freak up with the laughter???

Mourning ED

I don't understand why it's normal. Why is it a sign of recovery? I don't get how I could possibly cry and mourn over realizing that this is the end of my eating disorder, diagnoses ED-NOS and Bulimia Nervosa. But it happened. Without me even realizing it.

I was just washing dinner dishes....nothing unique. Kids were playing and I had a glorious, laughter filled day. But as I washed the dishes, my lip started trembling. And I started to sniffle....by the time I realized I had tears forming in my eyes, it was loud and clear: This is the end of my disorder. I occasionally looked up at my reflection in the window. Claiming identity in the eating disorder for 19 years, I had finally understood and willfully accepted that that's not who I was. It was something I had. And it was my time....doing dishes and putting them away....to move on. I realized I have no time or room to hold vigil to an eating disorder. It demanded all of me, and I was unwilling to participate. I knew...I just KNEW that I had better things waiting for me. I had a dream and vision to pursue. And I knew I was doing it with encouragement and confirmation from God. And I was finally able to cry about the loss of this disordered relationship and not feel any question or emptiness.

I felt calm. Sure. Confident in my future and the work that I am doing. I know it's right. It's meant to be. And I finally realized that ----------------------->

It's been there all the time. I knew it but wasn't satisfied with it. And God let me take my time.

And my therapist is leaving. I've been with her for 3 years. Weekly. Am I nervous? Yep. Scared beyond my wildest imagination? OH YAH. How do I feel now that my treatment team is minimized to 2 people? Ridiculously worried that I will have to say goodbye to someone else. I'm not ready for that. But I'm not ready to lose Kristin yet, either. But maybe God thinks I am. Perhaps he's tired of my stalling tactics and decided to up the ante. I wouldn't put it past Him. I'm stubborn as hell.

I'm going to need help. That's a fact. And I'll admit it. Just did. if you know me....please watch me. Question me if you think something is wrong. And just know that I am still in mourning. I don't know when I will get out. But I'm not going to rush this. Time to think about me and go with it....gently. Time to make up for 19 years of bondage. The chains have been removed.

Welcome back.


Thank you for reading.

Farewell, Kristin

My therapist, Kristin, informed me yesterday that she's moving. I instantly just thought to a new locale here in Boise. Um....no. Virginia. That may make weekly visits a tad bit difficult. I'm feeling really optimistic about it at the current moment. Panic has not set in. Tad bit freaked is all. I don't have too long. Spring Break. I'm ok, I'm ok......I think.
Regret flooded me when she told me. All the crap games I have played. The bending of the truth at times. Getting pissy with her when she told me the nasty, ugly truth. Letting my "bitchy teeanaged girl" show. That's her description, by the way. Endlessly questioned if I really want to get better or not. Here I had this smart chick, a licensed psychologist, help me out each week. But, no. I wouldn't give up ED so easily.

I wonder if I can cram 3 years of goofing off into a few weeks of total make-up!! Not likely. Besides, that wouldn't be classic me. This is just a case of don't know what you have 'till it's gone. While I totally embrace freedom of expression, I'm doing quite a good job at holding back all the obscenities swirling around in my head. But....when I swear, Kristin will swear back.

I will not have a new therapist. My choice. But I'm getting this flashing "CAUTION" sign in my head right now. Besides, if records were ever requested from Kristin, there's NO WAY someone would want to take me on! I'd question their credentials if they did.

I'm going to miss my blonde-haired, blue-eyed therapist. I will miss telling her her office is too hot and then play with the thermostat. She still doesn't have a 2012 calendar in there. Alas! She let me down! Who's going to sit in random spots in her office? Will she even have a new office? And who's going to have staring contests with her? Who's going to have staring contests with ME? Who on earth will hold the talent of making a grown woman cry just by asking "Why?" in the softest tone? And where the heck else am I going to find a doctor that brings me DIET COKE???

I trusted. She honored that. She never gave up on me. Though I'll give her crap, she isn't abandoning me. She's got a lovely little fam bam. It's the right choice for her. And that's important, too. Totally.

Well, Miss Kristin.....I have the utmost respect for you. Always have. I love you for helping me. For continually challenging me and making me think. For pressing all the right buttons. Whether you believe it or not....I am more focused and grounded after being in cahoots with you each week. God bless you, chick.

And safe travels for you and your family.

Recovering Inspirings: 10 Things You Shouldn't Say To An Eating Disorder ...

Recovering Inspirings: 10 Things You Shouldn't Say To An Eating Disorder ...: I really like lists. I thought I'd do another. Please note that most of these are relatively personal. You might not agree with some, and th...

Thoughts On Recovery

Here are some really honest ideas about full recovery. Seems to be a mixed board. Fantastic discussion though.

Do you think full absolute recovery from an eating disorder is possible?

My Showdown with God

I've been waiting to write the following for 19 years. This is my final decleration that I whole-heartedly choose life. I choose to own my recovery. And I choose to dive into the world. It's been too long. I finally believe the following:

 

  I am worth being loved.

\

As always, thank you so much for reading and sharing in my journey.

*******************************************************************************

My Showdown with God

    In my last therapy session on January 4, 2012, my therapist Kristin told me that she’d like to see me sign up for a class. Or volunteer somewhere. Something to combat the loneliness that I feel as a result of being home alone every day. The loneliness can lead to bad thoughts followed by bad behaviors, etc. I told her I would. And she expected to have a positive report the next week. I had 7 days to procrastinate and goof off.
    On the following Monday, January 9 (two days before I had to go back to Kristin) I received a text message from a dear friend asking if I was going to the bible study on Tuesday. I hadn’t been to a study in such a long time, so I wondered why she was asking now out of the blue. I switched to on guard mode.
    The topic for the study was Battlefield of the Mind. By the title alone I knew instantly that I was meant to be in that room full of women. And a sense of dread came over me. But…I was hooked. I locked on to the very first words that Kelli, the teacher, spoke. It was already evident to me that I was going to benefit from this series - whether I liked it or not.
    I listened to Kelli speak, and my mind reeled - concentrating on her and being overcome by the power of the Holy Spirit that I didn’t know I invited in.
    I felt set up. By my friend and by God. And I was mad. Very. I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to face up and own why I wouldn’t give up control of the eating disorder. It was part of me, and it was my identity. I was known for it. And it made me feel special and unique. Most of all, when I stayed sick, I was always cared for.
    I wanted to run out of the room. But I sat. Paralyzed by what I knew I had to do. It was for my own good and my well-being. It was to save my life. The war in my mind started even before I left the church parking lot. Anger and fear fueled the debate going on inside me. I had two choices.

Die.
Or
Give up control absolutely.

That was it, and I knew there was no other way. I had a choice to make.
    I felt like God was playing hard ball with me. I got angrier and angrier. As I was sorting clothes for laundry later in the day, I finally shouted in shattering silence for God to leave me alone. BACK OFF! I told Him.

And so He did.
And then there was silence.
    Shame and guild flooded me. How could I have such audacity to tell the Creator of the universe to back off?!

I quickly repented and begged Him to come back. I was genuinely sorry and remorseful.

And God was right there to tell me it’s ok. My Father took me back. The love I had questioned earlier in the day in bible study to Kelli was proven to me right there in the laundry room. And right then is what has been needing to happen for 19 years.
    I chose to live. I consciously chose to let God have the eating disorder. Its control. Its lies. It’s tragic consequences. I confidently declared that I wanted full recovery - something I was certain didn’t exist.
    The Holy Spirit flooded me with peace and the confirmation that God would stand right there next to me and love me all along the way.
I had resigned to the fact that I was probably going to die by my own hand. But God showed His paralyzing glory and love. And faith. And mercy. And grace. To me. Me.

And so I am in transition. Kristin reminded me that this is a major, major loss for me. I will grieve it and mourn. Giving up what has been your identity for over half your life is downright terrifying. I had to discover what it’s like to really live. To experience life while so raw and vulnerable. I thought Kristin was bursting my new found positivity bubble.

Not so.

She cares enough to warn me of the lurking dangers. She wants me to be careful. Be mindful. And to stay close to my biggest supports. I immediately threw out the bubble bursting theory and listened to what I needed to know to succeed. For once I submitted to her and let her teach me.
    Sure enough, I had a food challenge when I got home from her office. But, for once in my life I had the strength and armor on to tell myself to just stop. Be still. And I let God take over. And just like that, the struggle was over for me. I was just absolutely knocked on my rear with the power of love that I was just shown.

    I won the battle because I let the grace of God move ahead. And suddenly all the promises God made became absolutely real. And so the correct path that God wants me on was set forth before me, all ready for me to go. At the age of 32, I took the first steps that I denied since I was 14.

I know I am safe in God.
I’m no longer bound by lies and deception.
God is adjusting the lens in which I see Him and the world in general.

This evening I was practicing smiling more.
I looked like a dork, smiling at the reflection in the window sink.
 Eyebrows raising and lowering, trying to get the curve of my lips just right. My smile muscles have been atrophied for so long!

It’s always been a struggle. Food and lack thereof. But what I have now that I didn’t have then is the concrete confirmation that God will come along for my ride.

He’s been there all along. All I had to do was ask.

*************************************************
*I want to dedicate this to Pastors Monty Sears and Konrad Zeising. They’ve taught me how to put on the full armor of God. They’ve prayed for me in my most dire state.
And for Kristin Zauel. She never stopped pushing, never stopped believing I could overcome this hellish disease. She knew the proper buttons to push and never let me slide.
And for Jocele Skinner. My primary care physician. Not knowing exactly how to help me, she did anyway. She didn’t ever refer me anywhere else or tell me she couldn’t help. She had faith in me. Patience. She taught me to knit and spin fiber. She shared her home life with me. She told me what she thought about being an MD. And she knit me a blue beanie with yellow stars on it. My request. I’ll never find another physician like her. I fully believe she was the one meant to ever-so-gently ride my butt.

My treatment team is phenomenal. God is phenomenal. I’m alive. And I’m going to make it.

http://ezinearticles.com/?expert=Jenn_Delage

When all I can do is look at a picture...

JenniferDelage's photostream on Flickr.

Detatch From the Disorder, My Therapist Says.

While advocacy work is commendable and a very positive thing to do, my therapist said she would like to see me ultimately completely detach from the eating disorder and treat the advocacy work like a side job.

I didn't know what to say because I don't know what I SHOULD do. Or what I WANT to do. All I could tell Kristin that I am always, always wanting to help people. That's always been me.

Discovering new things about myself is making my brain hurt like mad!!

Watch Jenn Walk!

Incentive for donating to NEDA to raise awareness in Idaho. I'm in for the long haul!

Watch Jenn Walk!

Training Up My Voice.

I never thought that my loud, mouthy stuck-in-my-ways self would ever lead to anything. I am experiencing what speaking up and using my voice is like. And it's like this:
Raising funds for NEDA and bringing awareness to Idaho.

I knew nothing would change and utilizing my loud mouth might work. I'm doing this for all of you. For the people that pop by my blog and take a glance. Most of all, for my fellows in Idaho. It's tough to recover here. I hope things will begin to change.

The time to recover is NOW.

Many thanks for reading.

The Extremely Tricky Part

Weight loss. Realistic loss for health. Needs to be done. My doc told me she's happy where I am now considered where I was. Ok.....but I'm not happy.
She knows this. She said my weight is stable, and yes, I choose to know the number. Takes the blinders off. It's ok for me, but not a smart choice for everyone.

Had a little slip. Got so tired of shoving everything inside and keeping quiet that I lapsed. For a little while. It's somewhat comforting that this will happen. It's totally a normal part of the process.
This comforts me. I, for once, don't have to feel perfect and error-free.

I quiickly rebound after my intent was questioned by my doc. I hate being questioned. Having my intent questioned is like having my pride and integrity attacked. Yah, that's how my brain currently thinks, and that's what's got to change.

But the issue of losing weight. I can't predict how I'll do. Losing weight to me is like being trapped in my own private oblivion. I feel sooooo satisfied.

I'm nervous. Very. It's a step that will need to be taken. Soon.

I feel like a newborn. Trying to live this loving, positive life. Right now, I am heavily dependent on my treatment team. All I can do until I get my bearings is do what they say. And don't question. No talking back. No smirky lip curls. None of that. Just total submission.

While this feels like the most complete give up of control I have ever experienced in my tumultuous life, I know deep down just how strong someone must be to move forward.

This is freakin' sticky. Controversial. Bold. Reality at its ugliest. And me at my most vulnerable.

Thanks for reading.

Remain Thankful.

I am realizing more and more that focusing on what we're grateful and thankful for calms the mind down.

I think it takes a great amount of practice to step out of your own chaotic head and focus on what you're lucky to have - who you're lucky to have.

It tends to keep me grounded. Reminds me where to focus my energies. By doing so, I not only help myself, but I hope to help others.

Maybe someone you know needs to hear they're appreciated. They're loved. Respected. Make an effort to tell someone. By phone. Email. And *gasp* snail mail. You may just make all the difference in the world.

P.S. You don't have to have gone through a nightmare or tragedy to remain thankful. Take one thing at a time and build on it. It becomes a way of life.
Peace.

Thank you for reading!

The Time I Was Questioned

The time? More like times. Most recently I was questioned about my intent. Do I want to continue on or get better? I have been asked that countless times in my almost 3 years of active recovery. No one dances around the question. Everyone knows my games, and the question is always asked point blank.

So? The answer?

Ultimately, yes. However, one must understand that bulimia has been a part of my life for 19 years. It's not like sticking a patch on and weaning off from it. This is the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life. Quitting smoking and drinking was thousands times easier. Keeping my eating disorder around meant I had something to dive into when I wanted to self destruct. There was something certain that could be my demise. It dulled feelings and thoughts that I have worked 19 years to hide and ignore. Without it, I expose myself. Me. The REAL me. And I am still discovering exactly who that is.

My treatment team is phenomenal and has more faith in me, I think, than I have in myself. I respect people that ask me straight out if I want to recover or not. That question burns me. I hate it. It forces me to really stop and be honest with myself. Staring your own truth in the face is scary. It's honest and real. And you can't escape it. No amount of vomiting or laxative use can completely hide the truth.

And the truth is....I'm discovering. It's taking a long time. And I'm still working at it because people believe in me. I've had intimate conversations with my team about how hard it is. I can never fully describe it.

My therapist, Kristin, made a good point to me last week in session. She told me it's her job to do the best she can for me. To help me, to encourage me. And, she said, she expects the same from me. Own up to recovery and the fact that I show up in her office each week. Do the work. Be honest. Take control of my life. Yep, sista said it well.
That conversation was followed up with my MD asking if I want to recover or not.

Bottom line...moment of truth. I suck at lying. They all know this. They know when I omit information. My face says everything about me. I hate that. But, I think, it's saved me. I can't get away with anything anymore because I respect them too much to lie. And I owe them the best I can offer. So, when I am asked if I want to recover or not, this is what I'm able to come up with.

I will treat it as a journey. A learning experience. I will take whatever struggles I have and deal as they come. And they do indeed come. Frequently. This is the one life I've got. I've been sick for most of it. I'm ready to start discovering the real me. And I want everyone to know who that is. Most of all, I want what I said during my baptismal statement.
I want to live a life Jesus would be proud of. And I will do the work to honor that statement. For once, I am vowing to be true to myself. That, as I just NOW realized, is the first step to me loving myself.

I love my life. It's not easy. But I am damn lucky to live it. God knows I'm worth it. I'm actually starting to believe it myself.
Thank you to all that have been a part of my journey. It's been gnarly, and I hope you're all still game. I am.

Thanks so much for reading.

Ending

2011. This has been one of the most tumultuous years of my life. I entered eating disorder treatment and was discharged because of insurance issues. 4 days. I was crushed.
I totaled my Honda. Andrew and I escaped without a scratch.
I was fired. Completely traumatized. But I received my justice. If I were to give them a piece of my mind, I would BLOW their minds. And I wouldn't have used one negative word.

Changes in my treatment and who's been treating me. Intensive outpatient. Still close follow up with my physicians and my therapist. But 3 more counselors added. Crazy insane.

Hubby went back to school. He just aced his finals this week. I'm so proud of him.

I've been confused, hurt, lonely and resentful beyond belief. But I've had time. A lot of time. When my friend told me she no longer saw the hollow look in my eyes, I was filled with so much hope. I felt God press on my heart that my heart has indeed been healed and is no longer damaged. I remain hopeful. I am still frightened by the unknown, but it's time for me to raise my chin up and grab it, head on.
The most important people in my life haven't given up on me. They've remained faithful to me and have been encouraging. During my darkest moments, I have been shown mercy by an incredible person. She's taught me a lot about compassion just by her actions.

I'll be ok. I am stronger and more vigilant. I know my triggers; I know how to make it through.

What seems devastating in one's life can become the most obvious blessings. Sometimes one just needs a little shove, a kick in the tush, and just a little love to recognize that.

Bring it.

Lessons Learned.

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I Let Go

It's been said that recovery from an eating disorder can take years. My own therapist, Kristin, told me this will take a long time. I am currently entering year 3 in active recovery. One issue that has completely hung up and delayed progress was my need to control my own recovery. I had everyone in place: two MD's, a Ph.D, and a RD. I kept my appointments. I showed. I payed what I owed. But I bucked.
Kristin would tell me from time to time "You say you want to recover, but you don't do the work."
I would not do what my dietitian said.
At times I was non-compliant with all my meds.
Yes, that was me controlling my own recovery and working it my own way.

After over 2 years, I finally decided that I had to let go of everything: my pride, my need to control and perfect, and my need to direct my recovery. I was going no where until I let Kristin, Jocele, Tim, and Rhonda do their jobs and help me. I had to follow every direction.

And guess what?

It's true. Recovery can happen. I'm still in the process, but following all their directions has dramatically changed my outlook on things. I no longer think I will die from this disorder. I actually believe in full recovery, being recovered. Recovered. Fully. My moods are stabilizing. I have individual therapy, group therapy and medical appointments regularly. I'm actually enjoying therapy now!

Interestingly enough, I don't feel the need to control my recovery anymore. I just do the work, and that in itself is working. I'm excited right now; I get to make a recovery collage. I've never done that.

I let go. I'm meeting the real me for the first time in 18 years. And let me tell you, she's a pretty determined gal.
Don't give up. Let go. Let your team work you. And just believe in yourself. You're so worth it, and it's so possible.

Thanks for reading.

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