I’m back. I actually ended up spending 44 days in treatment, not 30. My treatment team (and some friends) would have preferred I stay longer, but I was about to lose my mind and desperately needed SOME measure of freedom. So I’m home and doing PHP near my house. One day I’ll actually go back to work, I swear.
It still feels surreal. It is hard for me to believe that I spent 6 weeks in residential treatment for an eating disorder. It wasn’t THAT serious, right? And to be sure, most of the reason I stayed so long was psychiatric (think moments away from being admitted to a psych hospital), not medical. Regardless, the experience taught me that I can trust myself. Seven weeks ago, I had to fight to make everybody understand why I who was not skeletal needed residential care for an eating disorder that nobody knew I had. In the end, I needed that structure (and more) – it was week three before I finished a full day of meals and well past my initial 30 days before I could make it through the day without being overwhelmed with the urged to exercise or restrict. So, I was right. I made a good, healthy choice by going into treatment.
However, the real test began when I checked out on Tuesday. Now I have to continue to make good, healthy choices out of treatment. I’ll be honest – it’s hard.
But I’m trying. I’m working. I’m growing.