Coming Home.

Coming home a year ago was really hard. I was excited to get out of NYC because I felt like I was failing.  I was failing at recovery, failing at living in the city, failing at making enough money to sustain my treatment, and most of all I was absolutely failing at anorexia. Now I know that you can't put your faith in a cape and a hood, they will not protect you the way that they should.  My disorder had become my security blanket (much like Little Red found comfort in her cape) and it was slowly slipping away from me which was the scariest thing that had ever happened.  But I also felt like I wasn't recovering very well or very quickly.  I was in a strange no man's land - not disordered, not recovered...not a little girl, but not an adult. So I came home because I honestly didn't know what else to do.  I had to put everything on hold and commit myself 100% to detoxing anorexia out of my life. Needless to say I relapsed about 3 days into being back.  Awesome.  New Years Eve I even broke out my old bag of tricks and told my mom I was eating with my sister, told my sister I had eaten with my mom, and then didn't eat at all. I felt the buzz of hunger in my brain that night, and coasted on the high for as long as I could.  I felt invincible.  I felt light.  And then I woke up feeling like absolute crap the next morning, and proceeded to have maybe the worst panic attack of my life.  I felt very much like I was back to square one.

Why am I telling you all this?  Because it is an extreme case of how hard the holidays and coming home to see family and friends can be. Seeing people and cramming all of our friends into the few short days we have at home can be extremely stressful, even when it doesn't need to be. We tend to revert back to old habits, whether they be restricting, snapping at family, isolating ourselves, or running away (For those of you dealing with ED specific problems, here's a post that might help ease some of the stress).

I mentioned to my Mom last night that I don't identify as an anorexic in any way anymore.  I identify as someone who has recovered.  Who has gone through the battle field and somehow, some way, made it to the other side.  I also don't believe any one ever TRULY loses every single bit of their disorder.  Emily will always whisper in my ear every once in a while (she loves to show up at holiday parties), but while that used to drive me to do irrational things, now I say "lol ok but also you're not real."  That's recovery.  That's coming home and being excited to see my family and friends.

Just remember when you're venturing home for the holidays that people are going to probably say stupid things.  Loved ones might make a comment about how you act or look differently.  Siblings might push your buttons.  Parents might nag you.  Friends might seem distant.  But that is no reason to change or lose the growth you have accomplished over the past year.  We are ever changing beings in this insane, difficult, amazing world - and we deserve to celebrate our accomplishments.

Happy Holidays, everyone.  I love you. <33

So, You Wanna Restrict...

After deciding to really and truly fight my disorder on October 1st, 2013, I have had my fair share of relapse moments.  I've had countless days lost to doubt, numerous times where I've thought "just this once...", and a myriad of bad or unhealthy thoughts traipse through my head.  I would say I have had two MAJOR, full fledged relapses: one right around new years day and another in early April after I was wrongfully fired from my dinky little Lexington job. Both of those times were definitely just...THE WORST, so you would THINK I would learn my lesson.  Unfortunately, mental health doesn't really work like that.  So after my April relapse, with the help of my therapist, I composed a letter to myself that I can read whenever I feel the pull of my disorder.  I still look at it, and it really helps me to ground myself in reality and realize my thoughts are irrational and unhealthy.  While it still is a tool I use, it is quite astounding to read it now and realize how far I have come.  It's full of tough love and real talk because sometimes, that's what you need. I hope that it can help you, too. 

Dear KT,

So...you want to restrict.  That's cute.  Here is what I have learned during my periods of relapse when I have strayed a bit too close to the edge...or just fallen off the cliff completely.

You just love flirting with danger.  There's something so tantalizing about using bad or destructive behaviors. Telling yourself just this once.  It's never just once.  EVER. When you don't eat your minimums, you usually sleep pretty badly.  Use your brain, girl.  You're hungry.  You're not sleeping as well as you used to because your body is healing itself and wants you to fuel it properly.  Just...go get dessert, weirdo.

The less you fuel yourself, the more obsessive thoughts you will have.  Haven't you noticed that on days you've had a little less or done a little more you find yourself wanting to look at food blogs?  That you find yourself planning meals and times and portions for the coming days, and you start getting anxious if someone suggests a deviation from the plan?  Again...use your brain.  When you are hungry/restricting you are a PAIN to be around.  You are so impatient and so sassy.  I honestly have no time for that. And neither does anyone else.

The anxious thoughts send you into a manic mindset, which inevitably leads to a depressive state. I don't know which version of you is more obnoxious.  Just...don't. Because bad behaviors are bad behaviors.  While I thought weighing myself at home (as opposed to the doctor or nutritionist for a weekly weigh in) just to help me "get over it" was a great idea...SHOCKER, it was not.  You realize your capacity for obsessive behaviors right?  You have OCD.  You let it spiral out of control until you were weighing yourself numerous times throughout the day, something you had never done before.  Don't let that happen again.  It was excessive and ridiculous.

I repeat bad behaviors are bad behaviors.  So you don't poop for a day...don't you DARE freak out on me because I can't have you fucking up my system more than you already have.  Don't do anything stupid. If your stomach hurts in that specific way (you know what I'm talking about) you're fucking hungry so go get a snack and gulp down some water please for the love of GOD. And another thing: restricting makes you incredibly indecisive and whiny.  If you can't choose whether you "should" eat or not and you're getting emotional about it...you need to eat.  That's just a hunger cue manifesting itself in a weird, annoying way.  Restricting will also inevitably make you feel like everyone who even mentions food is trying to attack you which actually...makes no fucking sense.

I know it feels counterproductive because somewhere along the line in your 23 years of existence you became obsessed with needing/having/wanting less, but punching Emily in the throat really does feel good and makes you feel like a recovery warrior.  Restricting just makes you tired. The more you give into bad behaviors, the worse Emily makes you feel about every aspect of yourself.  That's STUPID.  The more you love and care for yourself the better you feel.  That's SMART.

So, future me.  I hope this letter from KT who just got done relapsing and never wants to deal with it ever again has smacked some sense into your brain.  You're really smart, you Summa Cum Laude graduate, you.  Let's use that beautiful brain!  You can do this.  You are addicted to control, but you know what?  Taking control of this healing process is a high unlike any brain buzz Emily ever allowed me.  I just want you to remember that because if you're referencing this, I'm guessing you're feeling pretty low and vulnerable.  Take a moment to breathe deeply, cry if you need to, and remember...RELAPSES END BADLY 100% OF THE TIME. 

It is not worth it. Ever. 

I am so proud of you....now go eat a brownie. 
Love, KT.