Riding the recovery waves

I'm here, I'm still here, swimming, promise.

A few people have messaged me asking if I was okay, seeing how the new meds were going, checking that I'm still swimming forward. Thank you for reaching out, all of you. I've been riding waves. 

I'm still swimming, I'm still staying afloat, but it's not been plain sailing. There have been some rough seas and I'm not quiet out of the riptide yet. I'm just thankful, I guess, that I have the strength and skills to keep my stroke going through this. Navigating each wave as it hits me. 

So, what's going on in these waters? 

Well, the first few weeks on the headmeds saw me up and down, feeling emotional and paranoid. I thought I'd made the wrong choice to be honest, should an anti-anxiety drug REALLY be making me worry MORE about what people thought of me? I thought not. However, 50 days in, and I seem to have gotten used to them. Although, I really don't feel much different. I am still worried about the same things, still not fully confident in embracing challenges to anorexic rules, still worried about gaining weight and still not able to relax. 

I went for a session at my local well-being clinic, for some counselling -  that was part of the deal at the Doctors. I get meds and a booster shot of 'How do you feel about that..." And to be honest, blah, they were honest, given the therapy I had at the EDU, there was VERY little they could help me with. I think the word was, "too complex" with anxiety still so connected with the hangover of anorexia, that I was too much for their little brains! So, here goes the referral BACK to EDU. Hmmm. 

That is where I am at. Waiting for my assessment back at the clinic I swore I'd never walk back into. With a psychiatrist I haven't seen before, but am aware of. It all feels a little strange. Weird because I don't feel like I need to go there. Yes, my weight is lower than when I was last there - but am I in the same place? No way. I have bought a house, kept up work, been in a relationship for almost a year and I have been running and not running in balance. Much better.

On the outside. On the inside, underwater, what thoughts often creep up? Well, I worry about my imperfections still, I don't like not planning my food, I very rarely eat out, I still haven't let the boyfriend cook me dinner, I still count calories and worry about over-eating. I don't like change and I don't like surprises. I still worry about what people think of me, still don't like my body. I can be too thin and too fat at the same time. All of the above. In waves.

And that is how I am 'ok' and not at the same time. I am not drowning in anyone of those thoughts. They are not always at the front of my mind, but they come and go in waves. Splashing me in the face and making my nose tingle like when I used to somersault in the water as a little girl. It's little reminders that I haven't fully stepped out of the ocean and on to the shore - however close I get, I just stay in here for one more minute. Just in case.

Maybe this time, a little more help - and my beach hut, warm towel and ice cream cone will be ready at the other side. And I'll walk in and enjoy it? 

Riding the recovery waves

I'm here, I'm still here, swimming, promise.

A few people have messaged me asking if I was okay, seeing how the new meds were going, checking that I'm still swimming forward. Thank you for reaching out, all of you. I've been riding waves. 

I'm still swimming, I'm still staying afloat, but it's not been plain sailing. There have been some rough seas and I'm not quiet out of the riptide yet. I'm just thankful, I guess, that I have the strength and skills to keep my stroke going through this. Navigating each wave as it hits me. 

So, what's going on in these waters? 

Well, the first few weeks on the headmeds saw me up and down, feeling emotional and paranoid. I thought I'd made the wrong choice to be honest, should an anti-anxiety drug REALLY be making me worry MORE about what people thought of me? I thought not. However, 50 days in, and I seem to have gotten used to them. Although, I really don't feel much different. I am still worried about the same things, still not fully confident in embracing challenges to anorexic rules, still worried about gaining weight and still not able to relax. 

I went for a session at my local well-being clinic, for some counselling -  that was part of the deal at the Doctors. I get meds and a booster shot of 'How do you feel about that..." And to be honest, blah, they were honest, given the therapy I had at the EDU, there was VERY little they could help me with. I think the word was, "too complex" with anxiety still so connected with the hangover of anorexia, that I was too much for their little brains! So, here goes the referral BACK to EDU. Hmmm. 

That is where I am at. Waiting for my assessment back at the clinic I swore I'd never walk back into. With a psychiatrist I haven't seen before, but am aware of. It all feels a little strange. Weird because I don't feel like I need to go there. Yes, my weight is lower than when I was last there - but am I in the same place? No way. I have bought a house, kept up work, been in a relationship for almost a year and I have been running and not running in balance. Much better.

On the outside. On the inside, underwater, what thoughts often creep up? Well, I worry about my imperfections still, I don't like not planning my food, I very rarely eat out, I still haven't let the boyfriend cook me dinner, I still count calories and worry about over-eating. I don't like change and I don't like surprises. I still worry about what people think of me, still don't like my body. I can be too thin and too fat at the same time. All of the above. In waves.

And that is how I am 'ok' and not at the same time. I am not drowning in anyone of those thoughts. They are not always at the front of my mind, but they come and go in waves. Splashing me in the face and making my nose tingle like when I used to somersault in the water as a little girl. It's little reminders that I haven't fully stepped out of the ocean and on to the shore - however close I get, I just stay in here for one more minute. Just in case.

Maybe this time, a little more help - and my beach hut, warm towel and ice cream cone will be ready at the other side. And I'll walk in and enjoy it? 

Is it about time I turned a page?

I've been contemplating the corner of this page for a while not sure if I dare peak ahead or not, but I think I know what the next chapter starts with already...

"Life isn't perfect and recovery isn't a destination" Would be probably be the title of the chapter, or something along those lines. 

Although what makes me feel a tad sick is the fact I've always held on to the hope that I would swim ashore some place in recovery and everything would be sorted. I wouldn't hate my body, I'd eat what I wanted and not compare myself to others. But the longer I've been on this journey, the more I've come to understand that might never all arrive at once. 

I'll get to the point. I've always been kept afloat, or encouraged to keep turning pages, by Mrs W, Ms F. and for the past 18 months by Dr. B, which I've needed thus far. I've needed them to read to me at times too. However, it's felt recently more like I am just not bothering to read at all. 

So am I wasting their time, when they could be reading to someone else, someone who needs that comforting sound of being read to more than I?

I do pick up the book and focus sometimes, go over the punchlines and headlines to get me through, but I sort of know the chapters and pages by heart now. I can recite them when I get the time. The thing that's keeping me where I am, are the niggling thoughts that I haven't REALLY understood every page I've read up to now. Even when I have, I can't say I like those chapters or want to refer back to them. Let me explain...

..I still don't particularly like the idea of this 'free' eating thing, and I still know the calorie content book more word-for-word than the mindful eating manta. I feel guilty about enjoying foods. I can't say I like my body, and yes, I still think I need a way to fix it. I still get anxious about mistakes and mishaps and if I wanted children tomorrow I couldn't have them. 

That aside, I don't FEEL anorexic now. I don't think 'anorexically', I am a healthy BMI, although not 'quite' at mid-range target (Yes, that's a BMI of 22ish) and I generally focus on other parts of life for 90 per cent of the time. Which makes reading chapters with Dr B feel like I'm wasting his time when I see him. Like I already know the end of the story anyway.

However, the reason I'm not turning the corner is I also feel like I am reading ahead and that closing the book fully would mean I crave rereading it. It also feels like a bit of a disappointment. Like I was hoping the final chapter would be the best, and yet it's not feeling that way. I sort of also feel I have skim read a chapter or two, and never quite finished the book....

Despite being sick of the same old story, and reading 10 other books at the same time, putting down the recovery book NOW would make me feel like there was always more I could ha.........................

Ahoy there, recovery

I've been at sea for 1095 days. Swimming onwards towards recovery, dodging sharks, treading water and overcoming a few days lost at sea when I thought I was sinking.

Today marks three years since I was admitted to my eating disorders service. Three years since I sat, frail and pale in Mrs W's chair, my bones and body frozen to the core. Three Years when the diagnosis made no sense, nothing made any sense. I wasn't ill. Three years when I'd given up and thought my life was over. Forever. I thought I might as well drown.

Three. Whole. Years. 

I can't say I've ever really just DIVED freely into recovery, it's been more like jumping from a pier, trying to get away from something on land. It's still a bit like that - and there's a bit cloud of doubt hovering over me going forward. I've got to navigate a little bit longer.  

The recovery cove I had dreamt of seems less crystal clear and more murky and 'under construction' than I thought it would. I still don't think I am good enough to run freely through the sands - but I've got time yet.

But what I can say is after three years swimming, I can finally see the shore I've been aiming for. I don't know what's made me swim in a straight line in the past few months, but I've made up some of the ground I'd halted on at the start of the year. I've healed the wounds of the shark bites. 

If I was to provide a full account of the journey this far, It would take me as long again, but one thing that has occurred to me is just how quickly life passes us by. Stood still with anorexia on the end of that dark pier, the days of pain and hurt seem endless, but months and years are over in a flash. 

I can't get the last 1095 days back. But I don't think I'd want to do it any differently - I'd even keep the sharks and rough seas in too - because I've learnt more about myself since 2011, than I ever thought I would and I know I'll keep learning for a long time yet - but smooth seas never make a skilful sailor remember. 

To be honest, I thought recovery would be quick, a sprint not a marathon. I assumed that a quick physical descent into anorexia, the free fall bit, meant I wasn't ill enough to need the full works. The 15 years of keeping anorexia's abuse secret wouldn't affect recovery, right? Oh, Sarah.

I've had people try and push me under, I've had others cheer me on - some have even dragged me through the waters when I really didn't think I had the energy to keep moving. But I have. 

But sitting here, three years older, three years stronger, three years closer to freedom and 1095 days closer to recovery - one things I do know, is I've left anorexia stranded on a dinghy about a mile back - and she's not going to catch up now. Even her sharks are giving up nipping at my toes.

Ahoy there recovery, get the anchors ready. I'm on my way. 

Shred the research and leave the lab

Yet again the question 'What's holding you back?' is scrawled at the top of my journal and all I seem to be able to write is 'I don't know.'  I screw up the page and try to get my ideas out on a clean sheet of  paper. 

I have the same conversations with Dr B. and then repeated with my friends, but each time I seem to tie myself up in knots trying to find a way to explain 'where I'm at' or find a way to keep learning. Even whilst typing this, I write, backspace, then write, then backspace again, constantly confused as to what I think, feel and believe about myself and recovery.

Then I thought back to the theories Mrs W's therapy was based on..."Every man is, in his own particular way, a scientist" (George Kelly) The idea that we go through life 'researching and building our view of ourselves and the world.

I know I have BELIEFS or 'constructs' which are still really anorexic. I don't seem to be able to shake them, even if most of the behaviours don't match the beliefs these days. And that's the problem, I'm somehow still searching for PROOF for my faulty beliefs. Like writing a really bad thesis, which I've sort of lost interest and confidence in. 

It's like I've worked on a research project, trying to source proof for my 'too fat', 'too greedy', 'you'll mess it up' and 'you're not good enough' hypothesises for the past 20 years and now I've realised that maybe I've been wrong all this time...

(Eating less + exercise = weight loss) = being happier + good enough

(control + confidence) 

It's like I've been searching for evidence to back up these beliefs for so long that I'm just really pissed off that I have to admit I was wrong. Especially when, for a while, the formula seemed to make sense.

Part of that is complete frustration with myself, now that I can see where I've been going wrong. Through therapy work, my mind can see the other options. But inside I'm still apprehensive about scrapping this thesis idea and working on another project.  

I still have niggling hopes that I'm right, that if I just hold on to anorexia's research there IS a way of proving it. I can solve this 'problem', that I can find a solution to fix me. Or at least be right about SOME of it. That I can recover and still have these beliefs. Someone must have cracked it? No?

It's this stubborn, 'dedicated' researcher in me which holds me back. I've always been bad at wanting to make something work, to not give up, to keep searching for answers and solutions. But in this case, that part of me means I can't move on right now. I'm stuck in this lab.

I've become 'numb' to the practical research now though, too busy to really dedicate myself to testing it out. I know that weight loss doesn't solve the problem, so I've not been driven to try that experiment again. I have done the initial food tests, but still have more that I'm scared of experimenting with. 

Some days I admit, I'm really up for anorexia's research briefs, I feel like an idiot for not sticking with it - after all it did feel good for a while. But sometimes I want to work on a new project, I get a head full of NEW ideas to work though, but I don't trust my NEW project fully either. 

But really, I am just sick of working on ANYTHING at all. 

I KNOW what I need to do, research NOTHING and just live and learn. There is NO solution, no fix, no right answer. 

I just don't know how I can shred years and years of research without a firm plan or hypothesis to work towards instead, what will I do then?

I'm not sinking, I'm floating.

But the constant flow of recovery and life, up and down, sloshing about is making me sea sick. I've been trying to sit out the storm. And it's not working. 

I keep having huge waves of 'Jesus Sarah, let go, this doesn't matter, you can choose to live a full free life' and really not caring about calories or control. I'll be walking through the supermarket and feel empowered to choose what I want to buy, cook and eat. I book a table at a restaurant and not worry about the food I am eating. I will swim on for a moment. 

I imagine my life without anorexia, freedom one and for all. I imagine myself reaching recovery shores and the peaceful life I could have. Happy, even. 

But the next wave crashes down on me.

It's like I freeze in open water- too scared to make a choice or my next move, afraid that the one I choose will be the wrong one. Worried that I can't see out the storm and when I do, I don't see my strength. 

It's like I fear that swimming will be a mistake, fear that I can't swim and fear that swimming won't fix me or find me a solution. Worried I don't know where I am swimming too. 

It's not even that I fear the crashing waves any more, I know how to stay afloat when the impact hits. I can catch my breath. 

I don't sink with them, I don't allow the storms carry me back to anorexia. I am strong enough to withstand the current, sometimes. But it's like I go from 'I'm fine to I can't breathe' as fast as lightening strikes. 

But they keep happening and I know they will keep on crashing down until I get to calmer waters. There is no let-up in the storms that happen during recovery. Yes, they get more manageable and less frequent, but they are going to keep on coming. Taking away energy and motivation to move. 

It's becoming obvious that the longer I float by, the more chance there is of a wave crashing down on me that I can't manage. I am aware that anorexia has already weakened me, my body, my heart. I'm aware she'll keep on eating away at my health. With each moment I don't find the moment to swim, the more of a possibility of being pulled under becomes. 

Maybe I need to stop the motivation for swimming being the FEAR of sinking and start believing that there is something worth swimming towards? 

Because it's the fear of making a mistake, the fear of moving, the fear of reaching the shore and not being fixed which I'm starting to think is causing these storms in the first place. 

Time and energy is running out. Playing it safe and floating is not going to save me now. I haven't got time to float, my therapist has made this clear. I've been floating for too long, since 2011 to be exact. A total of more than 200 session so far, it's not endless, they can't keep me a float for much longer. 

I also know that I have so much ahead of me, that I can grasp on to, keep in my minds eye. But sometimes I have a mirage moment, and within this storm, believe I am already there and forget to swim forward. I do this a lot.

And every day I float. I am wasting a day in the sunshine above water. Every day I float, I risk being pulled to the bottom of the ocean. 

Rough Seas and Recovery Sharks

Anyone swimming from anorexia will know severe storms can throw us off course during recovery, send us flying into rocks or pull us to the very bottom in one enormous wave.

But that's not the only danger in crossing this vast ocean of discovery. There are hundreds, thousands, countless obstacles to overcome on this journey. 

Almost a year ago I wrote about the sharks lurking in these waters. Ready, waiting to devour those of us who let fear of swimming towards a calmer shore halt us, leave us treading water in these infested seas. 

Despite recognising the dangers of staying afloat in the same place, I thought I had the energy, knowledge and wisdom to out-swim the sharks. Brave, strong, determined. But it's happened....the sharks have caught up with me and are taking bites out of my body. It's hurting me. 

I've been out here at sea for so long, I've learnt how to survive, endure and live. But I haven't reached the Recovery Shore.

Without realising what treading water would do, I've been dragged backwards through my lack of swimming ahead. I knew floating and missing strokes would wind me back here, but I've given in too many times to the waves crashing over me, without noticing the damage each one caused. 

In some ways, seeing a clearer water, enjoying the sunshine from a strong place and the sharks letting me live a little have lured me into a false sense of security. But they've never really gone, they've just been distracted. 

But they've sensed my fear. And they're back, circling. 

The survival skills learnt out here do put me in a stronger position than before, my stroke is practised and I hope I've learnt a lesson from this attack. It's up to me to swim again. 

I need to remember I've got reasons to swim, nothing waits for me back at the anorexic coast, it's a dark, cold and lonely place. Staying here or being dragged back will pull me down to the bottom of the ocean, with no hope of return. 

What's worse this time, but also what will help me endure the pain of moving again is that I am not obsessed, fascinated or attracted by the sharks and by anorexia or the promises of a paradise back at shore. 

I know those lies, I've not been heading that way. She's not got the same power over me but this is proof that treading water allows her to send her sharks to me. 

But  instead of just 'washing up' at 'recovered', which never happens. I've ended up drifting backwards, getting weaker and forgetting where I was meant to be headed and why. 

That's got to scare me more than swimming through this storm.

(I need to remember why I have my anchor ink too. This storm could be what saves me if I swim on)