Would be interested in any feedback- thank you



How do you start a life story? You pray for honesty- for willingness- and you just let go-



My childhood was fairly ordinary. However, my father complicated things- he was an abusive alcoholic. He was arrested multiple times for assaulting the family and most of those times; my sisters&#****************; called the police themselves. he died by age fourty four.



At ******** I started dieting. I started being more conscious of what I ate and took a daily concoction of diet pills, appetite suppressants, laxatives and diuretics. It was about ******** pills a day. I continued this for about a year without anyone becoming aware. Eventually my mother searched my room and found my not so cleverly hidden stash. She confronted me on the issue but this would not be the last time we would have this conversation. She raided my room regularly and almost always found pills.



My freshman year of high school I came to school drunk with extra supply in my bag in case the buzz wore off. Being only ******** I was unable to hide my intoxication well and I was expelled that day from the private school I was attending. A teacher in the school requested the administration let me back in under certain restrictions, and for some reason they did. After that I tried my best to be &#****************;little miss perfect&#****************;. I needed to prove to everyone, particularly myself that I was capable of more than what I had become.High school was tolerable- but there was always a discomfort in my own skin. I&#****************;m shameful to admit I desperately wanted an eating disorder- I convinced myself it would give me an identity, something to make me unique. I am unaware what initially drew me to it. I openly discussed my disgust with my body. Everyone in school knew when I was starting a diet- I looked for pity and concern around every corner and if it wasn&#****************;t offered to me I acted out more overtly to get it. I desperately wanted to purge but could not manage to do it so I stuck to restricting and the pills for my high school career. But I continued drinking heavily in high school- jack daniels was my closest friend. I brought a bottle of JD to every party and everyone quickly became awed with the amount of alcohol I was able to consume while still functioning. Instead of an eating disorder, being a &#****************;successful&#**************** ; drinker became my identity. My weight didn&#****************;t fluctuate until I went to Boston for college. I requested a private room- mostly due to my social anxiety. Most of my time there was spent alone in my room eating. After one semester I moved back home feeling defeated. I couldn&#****************;t take care of myself. This is when my drinking and purging really became the focus of my life. I lived at home for a month and quickly moved out on my own- I couldn&#****************;t risk anyone judging my lifestyle. I began drinking regularly with an old friend from school- drinking eliminated the shame I carried around about being unsuccessful in Boston. My purging really started by accident. When I would become intoxicated I would throw up involuntarily then slowly I learned how to bring it on myself. I now had a handful of new coping skills that were working for me. That year is very much a blur to me. I started working at a trauma center&#****************;s ER. This became my life&#****************;s passion- my identity. Because of my social anxiety this was a difficult transition. Early on in my life I learned to play the role of the victim. My family was the victim of my father&#****************;s rage. The victim mindset made it easier to be social. One day at work, after taking an assortment of diet pills, my heart rate went into an abnormal rhythm. They shocked it back into a normal rhythm. What I took away from this was not the dangers of what I was doing to myself, rather the acknowledgement from others. I became the girl with the eating disorder and once again that became my identity. This was more comfortable than exposing my &#****************;real self&#****************;. The next four years there I was a patient roughly ******** times with symptoms ranging from falling down drunk to needing a feeding tube due to malnourishment. My coworkers were always concerned about my health. I conditioned myself to believe this was how people showed love- concern. If I was sick and people were paying attention, then they must have cared. Obviously this was a distorted perception. My eating disorder was not different than most I assume- I weighed myself ******** times a day. I threw up ********-******** times a day. I took around ******** laxatives a day, which became a very expensive habit however my body had built up such a tolerance that I needed additional for the desired effect. I went into my first treatment center in September of ****************. I was diagnosed with anorexia because of my weight and diet. To be honest I felt a sense of accomplishment- finally a doctor was telling me I was sick, something I had felt for so long. I lasted ******** hours there and escaped, literally. Two months later I signed myself back in. This time ******** hours in I had a seizure- apparently my alcohol abuse had become so unmanageable I would violently detox when I wasn&#****************;t drinking. **** days later I woke up in the intensive care unit and pulled out my feeding tube, the IV&#****************;s, etc and walked out. I was clearly not ready to give it all up. **** months later I made a third attempt- my last chance at this particular hospital. I don&#****************;t think I lasted **** days. I ended up back in the ER in October of **************** because I was passing out regularly and had subsequently hit my head. I had been thinking about suicide for awhile XXXXX When I woke up from the coma I was terrified. Terrified of what people were going to say about me- terrified that I&#****************;d have to continue living my life the way I had. I wanted the pain to end, and ending my life was the only way I knew how to do that- once I realized I was unsuccessful, the fear of realizing I would have to change my life terrified me even more. I spent two weeks at the hospital and unfortunately I have some heart damage from it. The day I left my doctor pulled me aside to tell me had someone walked in three minutes after they did, that I would be brain dead- he had no explanation for why I was alive. You&#****************;d think I&#****************;d have a new outlook on life after this but I believe the first thing I did when I returned home was pick up the bottle. Being suicidal was a major part of my life for those two years. XXXXX My weight dropped to my lowest yet in late **************** so I went to a hospital in Philadelphia. Keeping up the pattern I lasted about six days before walking out- it seemed hopeless. The next **** months really were just a continuation of this all. I drank way too much and ate way too little. That dream I had at ******** had become my prison. The resulting year was no different than the many before it- I lived a life of disease and disorder. -I was assaulted in a parking lot after drinking myself into oblivion, alone, at a grungy bar. The assault bothered me more than I expected. It was hard to not look at this as my problem since it&#****************;d happened multiple times. My relationships with men, meaning the ones I dated, were distorted because of this. I assumed my purpose was to satisfy someone&#****************;s sexual needs and then I was useless. Sometimes I wonder if that is what my anorexia was about, trying to morph my body into a sexless figure. It was important in early recovery for me to stay single and redefine what I thought a healthy relationship looked like. I couldn&#****************;t figure out why I had been dating abusive men&#****************; men who were unhealthy in every respect. I ultimately learned that water seeks its own level- I no longer look for standards in my partner; I try to become them&#****************; My recovery has had its ups and downs. I spent most of the early days questioning if I truly wanted to get better- all I had known was a life of chaos and disease. I didn&#****************;t know how to socialize without alcohol- I didn&#****************;t know how to talk to people, how to maneuver through crowds. I was uncomfortable in my own skin- my new skin. Ultimately I had to realize that my feelings couldn&#****************;t dictate my life- Just because I felt like spending the day in bed didn&#****************;t mean I should. And even though I may feel a drink would relax me, that certainly doesn&#****************;t mean I have to have one- Most importantly, I don&#****************;t have to think, feel, or believe anything- it&#****************;s what I do that will make me into the person I wish to be. When we change the way we look at things, the things we look at change. I will always have an eating disorder, and I will always be an alcoholic. These are facts. The measure of a person is not the mistakes they&#****************;ve made- it&#****************;s how they respond to them. What matters today are the actions I choose. Today I choose not to drink- and I hope that I can maintain that for the rest of my days. And while I will always want to be thinner, I also have the ability to treat my body with respect. Every day I have to make a conscious decision to remain healthy- God&#****************;s grace is that I have that choice today- I will not allow the mistakes I&#****************;ve made in the past to be the precursors for my future. I will learn from them- and god willing, not repeat them. When I was in treatment with very ill patients I&#****************;d be distorted with envy and convince myself I didn&#****************;t need help. At the risk of psychoanalyzing, I never felt taken care of as a child and I was ultimately looking for someone to do that. Here in lies the problem&#****************;I&#****************;m an adult. And my story is just my story. While I can empathize with the things that have happened to me, it is time for me to accept them and move on. Or this will be it- therapy, treatment, institutions&#****************; If I never let it go, if I&#****************;m constantly seeking something I can&#****************;t get back (my past) then this will continue to be my story. I have to believe that there is a purpose for me- for all of this. For me, my spirituality is getting up every morning-despite my demons- not knowing yet what that purpose is.







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