“The minute you think of giving up, remember the reason why you held on for so long.”

Hello everyone! I know it has been a long while since I last blogged. I was reading inspirational quotes today and I came across the above quote. “The minute you think of giving up, remember the reason why you held on for so long”. It has been a hell of a 5 months and I’m still fighting for my life. I feel like giving up a lot of the time, especially with what has been going on recently but something keeps me going. I don’t really know where to begin with this post. So much has happened in the past 5 months and yes I’m still inpatient at Eating Recovery Center of Denver. I have come a really long way but the fight is far from over. Things got a lot worse when I got here before they got better. I’m not going to get into the details but I hit rock bottom, physically and emotionally and was being told by my treatment team here that my life was on the line and they were scared. I was so sick at the time I couldn’t see it until one of my friends here told me she was afraid she was going wake up one morning and they would tell her that I passed away. It gave me chills when she told me that. It wasn’t like I heard that and all of a sudden started fighting ED but it was the beginning. There have been so many ups and downs and lately I’ve been so frustrated. That’s why today the above quote caught my eye. I really feel like giving up. That its not worth the pain I feel every waking moment of everyday, the torture of the eating disorder. I got to a point where I was eating all my food orally, got off my one to one and was on level two completing meals and going on outings. I then started having seizures and they had to put the ng tube back in for safety purposes. I guess today I’m just feeling defeated. I’ve been here for 5 months. I miss my family, I miss my friends and most of all I miss living. So the minute I feel like giving up, in this very moment, I must remember how far I’ve come and why I keep fighting. To get back to my mom, dad, sister, brother, niece and nephews, Annie, Laura, Marie, Natasha and all those who love me. I must remember my value of connection, family, love, education and most of all happiness that I so deserve ( yea ED that’s right I do deserve to be happy!). This is why I’m holding on and why I’ve held on for so long.

ED takes control.

Haven’t posted in weeks mainly because I was/am doing horribly. I’m back in treatment this time at denver erc. I’m so scared of recovery and i’m fighting it so much. ED is so loud and torturing me. He convinces me that I don’t need food, and that I’m overweight when I’m now “supposedly” very under weight. It has been hard for me to trust my new team. I miss my family and I hate that i’ll be missing thanksgiving, and the holidays period. At the rate this is going, I won’t be home for christmas either. My advice, don’t let ed in even a little bit because he will destroy you like he’s destroying me. Don’t skip a meal, a snack, a glass of milk with dinner because ED is the devil and will take any opportunity to grab you into his hell.

My Story

I’ve been very hesitant to tell my whole story on here, frankly because I’ve never shared the whole thing with anyone. This is by no means meant to flaunt my disorder and struggle. ED has ruined my life. I will not mention numbers, as I think that is helpful to NO one and I’ll do my best to be honest, and raw, so please do not read further if you feel this will not be helpful for your own recovery. 

I don’t exactly know where to start so I’ll begin with the early years. From what I remember I was a very happy baby, I’m told I was always smiling, very social and friendly to everyone. As a young child I was a little tom boy. I loved sports, and was always outside our apartment, in the court running around with the boys. I played every sport known to man, in boys leagues. Basketball, baseball, football (flag), and soccer. I loved competition and from a very young age, I hated to lose. Don’t get me wrong, I still loved my baby dolls, and when not on the field, I could be found playing “house” with my girlfriends. Soccer quickly became my number one sport, and I pretty much loved every minute of it. I played on a boys travel team until I was about 13; by then we felt it was time for me to play with the girls, more for social reasons than anything else. I continued to excel in soccer while playing basketball on the side with an inner city team. My commitment to soccer grew, it was definitely my passion but being so committed to something from such a young was not very easy. There were days after school where I wished I could just go over to a friends house but instead there was soccer. Most days I loved going to practice, but there were a few days, far and in between where I wanted to be just a typical middle schooler. Nonetheless I continued to pursue my passion, not yet knowing where it would take me but simply for the pleasure I got from competing and spending time with my teammates.

Freshman year of high school, I was determined to make the varsity basketball team, and play basketball in the winter. I had trained all summer privately for basketball, when I was not playing soccer of course. I decided to run cross country in the fall for my high school, and quickly fell in love with the track team. When basketball tryouts rolled around, I made the team but the coach said that I needed to be at practice 5 days a week. Because soccer was my main commitment, as I was now playing on the olympic developmental teams, and premier club soccer, I had to say no to basketball. My track coaches and teammates saw so much potential from my first cross country season that they convinced me to run indoor track, with the rule that I could come to practice whenever I could make it. This worked out perfectly, I fell in love with track and field, and my freshman winter track season was awesome. I surprised so many people, and myself included, qualifying for states in the 600 meter and Nationals, in the sprint medley (I ran the anchor leg 800 meter run). Soccer was still most important as I was now being recruited to play division 1 soccer in college. I was traveling a lot for soccer, and track but genuinely enjoyed all of it. I did have some days where I wished I could have just have one day off, but my competitive nature and commitment to what was now two sports drove me to go above and beyond in my training. By my sophomore year, my commitment to both sports grew and it became very difficult as each of my coaches saw so much potential and couldn’t understand why I couldn’t just quit the other sport to focus on one. I began going to two practices a day, mind you I was an honor/ap class student and worked extremely hard in the classroom as well. I’d go from track practice in the city, to soccer practice in long island, get home by 10pm and do homework until I couldn’t keep my eyes open and wakeup at 5 30am to complete what I hadn’t done the night before. Then do it all over again the next day. It seems like so much looking back but I was so used to my schedule that it just became a routine, and for the most part I thoroughly enjoyed it. Unfortunately being a double athlete at such a high level began to take a toll on my body. I was small framed to begin with but with all the exercise I was doing for my sport I began to lose weight and when I didn’t get my period for 6 months, along with some serious hip and joint pain, we decided it was time to go to the doctor. Mind you I had no issues eating at this time. It was the exercise that put me into a deficit. I enjoyed food and always had a big appetite, from childhood. When I went to the doctor he was very concerned about my weight (and lack of period) and told me that I needed to put on X amount of pounds if I wanted to continue my activities and that I’d have to pick one sport to focus on. This was very difficult for me to hear, soccer was “my sport” all along, and it seemed like the obvious answer but I loved my track team and honestly just loved to race and run. I chose soccer and said goodbye to track for the time being. Here is where I believe Ed stepped in. Losing weight was definitely the trigger for me. I began having to write down the food I was eating and show it to my doctor at the next visit. This caused me lots of anxiety and I didn’t quite know why at the time. This is also when my body dysmorphia began, being unable to see the reality of what my body actually looked like. However soccer was taking off. I made the U17 US women’s national team and was traveling a ton with my club team. By my junior year I was committed to Duke University on pretty much a full scholarship. I began eating healthy, and cutting out desserts. It was an innocent attempt to be the best player I could be on the field, that wouldn’t spiral out of control until my sophomore year in college. I maintained my life, soccer and school, excelling in both athletics and academics. My parents were a little concerned with my body image as I would cry in front of the mirror occasionally, so they had me see a therapist briefly. He did not recognize a problem and so off to college I went.

My freshman year of college for the most part was great. I started for Duke Women’s Soccer as a freshman, loved my teammates and was passionate as ever about playing at the collegiate level. I began restricting food, but ate enough to maintain my weight and at the time I was not doing it to lose weight. It was much more of an unconscious thing, still concentrated on being healthy for my sport. I became very close with my teammates who became family very quickly. I missed home a lot as I have always been a home girl, but I was living my life and excelling. I felt so accomplished when I finished my freshman year but had some difficulty with the very few lbs of muscle weight I had put on from lifting and fitness. My coaches were happy with the tiny bit of weight I gained as they thought I was too thin to begin with. When I got home, summer after my freshman year, friends/family/teammates began commented on how I looked great and wasn’t so scrawny anymore. I think this really sent me into the eating disorder. I was overexercising and had developed a stress fracture in my back. I took a few weeks off before my fall season with Duke Soccer began but couldn’t prepare for preseason like I had the previous season. I wasn’t eating enough from the start of the season, and was still having a significant amount of back pain. I began to feel depressed, as my coaches felt I was not playing up to the standards of last year. I was beginning my downward spiral into Ed and my best friends and parents knew something was not right. My best friend at the time encouraged me to make an appointment with caps (counseling services at duke) as she saw my behaviors were getting worse and my mental state was declining. I eventually did just that and was sent to an eating disorder specialist doctor who worked at student health. She was actually a really great doctor and I liked her a lot. She understood the eating disorder very well, and saw the seriousness of my illness right away. I think however at that point the weight loss had triggered my brain to fear food so much, that I began trying to eat more to get my weight up, but a scary behavior developed in return. It was the weirdest thing at first because I had never made myself throw up (meaning I never stuck my finger down my throat) but my anxiety produced this reflux every time I tried to eat. The weight came flying off and before I knew it was christmas break. When I went home my doctor told me that upon my return I must weigh X amount of pounds if I wanted to continue playing soccer. At home things got worse. My parents were so worried about my physical state and simply did not know what to do. They panicked and I freaked out begged my best friend to let me come stay at her house in Texas for the rest of winter break. She agreed to help and her parents flew me out the next day. It was a really tough trip as I did not exactly see the severity of my illness. I was crying all the time and knew I was miserable but did not realize how sick I really was. One night that I will never forget was when I asked my best friend, before we went to bed, “is it really that scary, am I really that sick”, she started crying and I started crying and I think that was when I knew I was in too deep. When I got home I begged my parents to let me go back to school for the spring of my sophomore year if I would agree to doing the Duke Outpatient Eating Disorders program. I agreed and off I went. Soccer was out of the question as my weight was well below where it needed to be. Telling my teammates that i wouldn’t be able to play until my health improved was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. Things continued to decline and my doctor told me that I was too sick to be treated as an outpatient. I went home and began various treatment beginning with partial hospitalization. Nothing seemed to help and in the summer of 2010 I entered residential treatment. I spent 6 months in residential treatment and it helped me to restore my weight which was a huge first step. I was however not cured, and had a lot of hard work ahead of me. My parents were extremely supportive, but I wavered on relapse for quite a while when I left residential treatment. Eventually I started fighting for my own recovery. I don’t know how or why, but slowly I started to regain my life back and I could finally see a light at the end of this dark tunnel. 

I started coaching soccer, a U9 travel team, and slowly but surely joy began to creep back into my life. I become really close with another friend who was working on recovery and we did it together. We cried, laughed, cried some more but encouraged each other to keep fighting for the life we so much deserved. Having Annie, to fight this battle with changed my life. I began playing soccer again and working my way back onto the Duke Women’s Soccer team was another one of my big motivators for recovery. By the summer of 2011 I had achieved that goal. I made it to preseason, but I still had exercise restrictions which increased my anxiety and decreased my confidence out of the field. I got through preseason but my anxiety was so high, that I gave into my fears and decided to quit the team, at least for that season and focus on my recovery. The idea behind my decision was good but I think I reacted too quickly to the anxiety thoughts of not being the same player, or not being able to be as fit as I wanted or could have been. I honestly believe that was the biggest mistake I could have made, but everything happens for a reason. Trying to just do school/academics, at a University where I was so used to being a part of something more, my team; proved to be really difficult. Depression began to rule my life again, and I was overwhelmed with loneliness. I think my friend Annie, being a freshman at Duke, really saved my life, but it wasn’t enough to fight the horrible anxiety and depression thoughts. My team was doing better than ever and I was so proud of them, but I watched my dream of making it to the final four happen and the sadness that came over me became unbearable. I’m terrified to admit this, as only my closest friends and family know about this, but I took my first overdose. It scared me and I didn’t want to die but I couldn’t handle the thoughts and pain any longer and it was only cry for help I could think of at the time. This of course sent me home after a week of hospitalization. I was so sad and depressed. Ed began to rear his ugly head. I started restricting and purging again, to cope with my feelings of despair. It just made things worse.

I went from hospitalization after hospitalization, I overdosed two more times, I seriously didn’t want to deal with the pain. I don’t think I wanted to die but my actions showed otherwise, as I came too close too many times. Eventually ED was out of control again and physical state began to deteriorate. It seemed like no treatment on the east coast could stabilize me, physically so my mom took, my wasted body to the Kartini clinic. The doctors there were amazing and they saved my life. I was fed through a tube until I was capable of eating, and my body became more stable. I had a grand mal seizure which ended me up in the ICU and from the trauma I many many more non-epileptic seizures. It was scary and I felt like a crazy person. I did well at kartini but struggled through as ED tortured me. My depression lingered and my motivation went up and down. I came home from kartini in september and since then things have been painfully difficult. 

I’m terrified to move forward and feel tormented by ED thoughts, I’m relapsing and I don’t want to take the actions to stop it. I hate this illness and the way it makes me feel like I haven’t suffered enough. Haven’t I suffered enough? Truth is there is never too much suffering with ED. When will I be able to pull myself out of this mess. Will I ever. I tried to write this piece in hopes that it would help me to fight just a little bit. I hoped it would make me get angry at my eating disorder for all it has taken from me. My friends, my family, its a terrible feeling when ED feels more important than the things in life that really matter. Alright ladies and gentlemen thats all I have left in me for now. 

-Cody

Checking in

Hello fellow bloggers. Things aren’t going so well here in the big city. My mom, in an attempt to get me to turn things around, mentioned that this is 3 years since my diagnosis of Anorexia Nervosa. Something to the extent of “we’re going on three years now, come-on Cody!” It’s depressing and sad that I’m stuck in this cycle that was going on well before I was actually diagnosed with a full-blown eating disorder. It just sucks and there is nothing else to it. The eating disorder struggle has been, minute to minute, moment to moment, almost all consuming, BUT I did manage to go out with a friend saturday night and spend a beautiful Sunday with my mom and niece. Got to be grateful for the little things ay:). 

I’m also in the middle of therapist switch which has been really difficult for me. I’m trying not to feel abandoned and like a failure. My current therapist, who I feel very comfortable with in this short time that we’ve worked together, feels that therapy between us has not been effective in helping me fight the eating disorder. She told me this week that I’m relapsing, and I’m somewhat aware of it but on the other hand I (or ED) don’t/doesn’t think it is all that serious. I’m switching to a DBT (Dialectical Behavioral Therapy) Therapist in hopes that she can help me find better ways to cope with my anxiety and as she put it “create a life worth living”, I really like that idea. The new therapist seems really great, but I’m feeling so guilty about all the money going into therapy with my lack of motivation and I don’t want to stop talking to my ED therapist because she really gets me. Although difficult on my end, I do understand where she is coming from. Anyway, only time for a quick check in. Hope to have more time to write soon. 

The denial of hunger

I took a little bit of time off from blogging, partially because I didn’t want to reiterate the same thing over and over again. That recovery is hard work, that I’m struggling, scared and feeling hopeless at times. The past week has been tough, as I try to battle the ED voice which has definitely grown louder. The scary thing about Ed is that if you let him in even a little bit, its becomes harder and harder to do the right thing. Although these past two weeks have been painfully difficult I did manage to get myself out of the house (out of my bed) and spend time with friends on friday night. I put on normal clothes, a nice top and Jeans! It was actually quite a big deal. I was so nervous to eat dinner out of the house and socialize with old friends but it turned out to be a great thing. I had a good time and it was a nice break from Ed’s torment.

I wanted to touch on a what is scaring me most lately. For a long time it was very easy for me to restrict because my body was so used to starving that I rarely felt hunger, and if I did I never responded to it. As someone suffering from anorexia, I find it extremely difficult to admit that I feel hunger. It goes against everything the eating disorder tells me. Yesterday I worked really hard to get myself back on the right path, but I was so freaked out because I was actually hungry and responding to it. After my night time snack I panicked, I was crying and punching the walls, hating myself for listening to my body and eating my meal plan. My parents were comforting me but I still felt such anger and despair. It is hard to explain why feeling hungry is so scary. I guess it shows me that I’m not so different than anyone else. My eating disorder like to tell me that I’m different that I don’t need food like everyone else, but I guess hunger affirms that yes, Cody, you are human and your body needs full nutrition. I’m still grappling with the feeling of hunger. I’m afraid to respond to it, because by responding I’m going against all of Ed’s convincing lies. Can anyone relate to that denial of hunger?

Love vs. ED

This right here is the hardest part of recovery. Where it hurts and the only way out is to keep eating. I’ve let ED in this week by restricting and it’s starting to get out of hand. I saw my doctor this morning, he met with my parents and I. It was a rough session/appointment. I cried about how I want to give up, that its just too painful, and the classic ED line, “no one can make me eat”! It is the battle of love verses ED. My parents are here for me, every meal, every moment, they have given up everything for me. ED has tried to destroy my life yet the choice of choosing between the two is so hard. I feel like a terrible person, how can I choose a life alone, starving myself over the people who have been fighting for me, who love and believe in me. ED is telling me that I have to get sick one more time before I can fully recover. That my weight can get lower than it did last time. How does that make any sense? Why do I have to get worse to get better? I’m still going to have to handle the pain somewhere along the line. I’m so torn right now. My house is full of tears, both parents and mine. Every meal last week was a battle of love verse the eating disorder. I eat because I love my family and I don’t want to keep hurting them, but then the eating disorder destroys me afterward. I’m being pulled in two different directions and the eating disorder seems to be winning. How could ED be stronger than love. Is it my fault? Am I a bad person. How could I choose ED over love.

Follow up to yesterdays post

It has been a battle in my head lately, as I’m sure my last negative nancy post showed. Just wanted to follow that post up with a few quick words to let you all know that I’m still fighting and I’m not giving up yet. I deserve more than my ed, I deserve more than hospitalization after hospitalization. I have love on my side and love is stronger than ED! It’s breakfast time so I better get going. I’m tackling this eating disorder one bite at a time. Peacexx

ED rears his ugly behind!

I’m having a really tough week. This transition back home has not been easy. I was excited to come home from portland, coupled with intense fear and nervousness. I knew at the Kartini clinic, ed didn’t stand a chance and I knew that coming home there would be a large chance that ed would rear his ugly behind. Rear his ugly behind is certainly what is going on now. I’m shutting down, refusing the love and commitment from my family and friends and trusting ed to help me through. I know its wrong but I so afraid of the future, I feel like a failure and so far behind my peers. Hopelessness is definitely the word to describe how I’m feeling and the state I’m in. I’m not feeling hungry which is nothing new, and unfortunately I’m listening to ed. My parents are fighting for me but I’m refusing to grab the rope. I’m failing them yet again. I don’t know how to move on with my life. I’m also in the middle of a medicine change, I’m basically on nothing and working my way up to a therapeutic dose of anti-depressants which has to be a factor in my depression. Anyway, I have nothing really more to say except “I’m in the shit of it” (thanks to Laura for that phrase) and maybe I’m too tired to keep fighting. I’m sorry to all those who love me. 

And she rambles on…

So irritable and frustrated tonight. I had a rough day, finally confronted my sister about how hurt I feel for her inability to understand my illness. I know she loves me and I guess I will just have to accept the way she reacts to my struggle. It’s painful when someone you love can’t understand. I’m too upset to write a post about that tonight so I think I’ll just ramble on to get my frustration out. 

Most of my friends and family already know this but for those who don’t, I’ve been doing FBT (Family Based Treatment) for anorexia nervosa. Fbt, with the help of the kartini clinic, has saved my life. You’d think I’d be grateful for FBT but I’m just too new to recovery right now to give thanks. I’m feeling a lot of anger and wishing I didn’t have the support I have so I can just use the eating disorder to cope with my fears and anxieties. Family based treatment has typically been done in the past for younger children but current evidence based treatment has proven that it can be very helpful for young adults. The basis for family based treatment is that the parents (Boyfriend, Girlfriend, Spouse: If the patient is married or living away from family) takes control of the food until the child or young adult is capable of properly feeding themselves. Before family based treatment can really work the patient must be medically stable which is what they make sure of at the kartini clinic. If you on unstable you enter the hospital first, on a medical pediatric unit, not a psychiatric unit and they monitor your heart and vitals and give you adequate nutrition, by mouth or through ng/gtube feeds if you are unable to eat. As your vitals improve with proper nutrition and you can complete all your meals without needing the tube, the doctors discuss and plan for discharge. This is when fbt starts. For the younger school-age children the goal of the kartini DTU (day treatment unit) is to help the children and teens, get to an age appropriate level of independent eating, while continuing to restore the mind and body. The college age program is slightly longer because many college age patients are working towards living completely independent of their parents. Fbt makes a lot of sense because basically family based treatment is a continuation of support, it takes the power away from the eating disorder because not eating is not an option, the same as it would be in a residential facility. Unfortunately eating disorder recovery can take years and financially it is impossible to stay in a residential facility for that long. Continued support is so important for long term recovery. I know fbt has worked for adults, I have friends who are living proof, but for some reason I feel like I’m the exception to the rule. I haven’t gotten to independent eating and I’m so uncomfortable in my body that all I can think about tonight is wishing I was back in the darkness of ED, in my tiny body that gave me only limited satisfaction. When everything else felt so horrible at least I could feel my bones and know I was doing something right. I’m so in my eating disorder tonight. Why? I guess because I feel so horrible in this moment, and it seems that nothing could be worse than the feeling I am in right now. Grrr none of this makes any sense. I just feel like as a young adult at some point I’ll have to take control of my recovery and stop doing it for my mom and dad. I’ve put them through hell and the only thing keeping me eating is the guilt I feel for them and maybe the hope that I can be more than just a girl with an eating disorder. Maybe I’m not more, maybe I’ll never be more, maybe I’ll have to fall on my face in order to pick myself up and get better for me. Maybe that’s the eating disorder talking but what if its true. I’m so new at this. So new at being an eater. So scared to step foot in a world where failure might be an option. My eating disorder has kept me in this place of limbo for years now and I’m terrified of what the future holds. 

Tomorrow’s a new day and hopefully the pain I’m feeling now will subside by breakfast time tomorrow. Its been a long day and I’m still here. As my new therapist likes to say, “I’m staying alive” one moment at a time. 

I will be brave

The title of my blog, is fairly easy to understand if you are a sufferer of anorexia or a loved one of a sufferer. The need to brave when it comes to battling an eating disorder is what many outsiders don’t understand. Eating? Why would you need to be brave to just eat. Before I get into detail, lets go back to this basics. Eating disorders are biological brain disorders. “Parents do not cause eating disorders and children (or adults) don’t choose to have them.” I’ve accepted that I didn’t choose this illness, anyone that suffers with anorexia wouldn’t wish it on their worst enemy. In fact I find myself at times wishing I was battling something else or anything else for that matter. There’s no quick fix to anorexia nervosa, no magic pill to make the thoughts or the physiological destruction caused by malnutrition, just go away. You have to fight with all you have, hope and believe that there is something more out there. A chance for a life not consumed by food, calories, body image, depression, and anxiety. Unfortunately I have experienced a time where I couldn’t fight for myself. In that case others have to fight for you, nourish you by any means possible (ng tube, g-tube) so your brain can wrap its head around the fact that not getting nourishment is just not an option. Slowly dying is just not okay. Sometimes I still feel I’m the exception to the rule, that I don’t need food; but part of me knows that is the eating disorder talking, not Cody.

Another point I want to bring up is the fact that you do not have to want to get better from your eating disorder to begin the healing process. In fact, it is the nature of the illness to be fearful of recovery and deny that you may even have a problem. The eating disorder numbs you out, so you don’t have to feel the pain, the anxiety, the depression. It works in the moment but it is a vicious cycle that leaves you feeling more depressed, anxious and fearful of weight gain. I’ve just arrived home from a 9 month stay in treatment 2 weeks ago (including almost 2 and half months of hospitalization and 7 months of intensive outpatient/day treatment), and most days I’m afraid of recovery and wish to go back to my eating disorder. Its a miserable place to be but sometimes the miserable, because it is what I know seems less scary than the unknown future which is potentially filled with hope, promise and maybe even happiness. It’s a lot to wrap your head around if you haven’t battled an eating disorder, but all you ed warriors know what I’m talking about.

Now to the bravery piece. I get choked up thinking about it. Back in January of this year, 2012, I was terrified of food and water. My brain was so starved and my body was wasting. I cared about nothing and I wanted to die. I thought I was ready. I had told my mom from my hospital bed that I had lived a good life, I had many successes and failures and people would remember me for those. It was my doctors and my parents who told me that they were not going to let that happen. When I met Dr O’ Toole one of the first things she told me was that I was very sick. She said she didn’t want me to worry about eating, that they were going to put an ng-tube in my nose to get the process started and give my mind and body a break. I tried to explain that I wasn’t that sick, that I was okay, that I didn’t need to go the hospital, but my blue finger tips and inability to walk even 5 steps showed otherwise. The bravery began when I entered the hospital. I allowed the placement of an ng-tube. The thought of food going into my stomach through a tube in my nose was terrifying but something inside me knew I deserved better. After a few days of ng-tube feeds I took the bold step of asking to eat. Shaking with fear and anxiety I spooned bite after bite into my mouth as the kind compasionate nurses of Randall children’s hospital sat with me through the tears, encouraging me to be brave. I don’t think anyone can understand or comprehend the fear of food that encompasses anorexia nervosa. Most the time it doesn’t make sense to me but that is why it is brain disorder. All I know is my own fear and how painful it was both mentally and physically to feed a body that had been starving for far to long.

As I continue on my journey I am far from where I want to be. I’m in a healthy body and no longer suffering the physical effects of anorexia but mentally, the pain is still unbearable at times. I keep fighting, with every bite I continue to be brave.