My shirt may say I hate everyone (and pants), but I love you all!🌼

My Recovery

 I’ve had several messages asking me what happened while I was away, but 8 months is a long time - so I’ll have to start at the beginning. The very beginning.

My mental health disorders started really young - I was 12 the first time I had a panic attack, and 13 when I started starving myself. My mother immediately brought me to the hospital, where they interviewed me, with my mom in the room, only to tell her I was fine.

I struggled with severe depression, anxiety and anorexia until I was 17, when things naturally started getting better, or so I thought. I began my psych degree, which really helped me understand the things I was experiencing. Until things came back - stronger. As a psych student, I was able to recognize the signs early and I went to the free school therapist.

Every therapist I saw told me that I didn’t fall under their department, that their colleague would be able to help me better. I got bounced around from therapist to therapist for weeks, until I couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped out of school with only a year left on my degree. Things escalated too much, and I became afraid to even leave the house.

Luckily, my psych training came in handy, and I spent months taking small baby steps out the door, down the driveway, and finally walking to the store. I fixed myself, for the second time. Everything seemed great after that. I still had the occasional panic attack, but I thought I finally learned how to control the demon.

Until last year.

Last summer started, I had noticed myself sinking lower and lower. Being summer break, I decided I was going to get myself help now, so it wont impact school later.

After therapists who disappeared on me, therapists with rape charges, and several months of being bounced around again - I went to my doctor in tears. This is when she noticed my weight and referred me to the Canadian Mental Health Association. Two days later I had a representative in my house for an interview, and shortly after I had my psychologist and was administered into the outpatient eating disorder program.

In this program you worked with a social worker, nurse, and dietitian all trained in eating disorders. I had to see one of them almost every day - this lasted several months without any improvement. At 5′9″ my weight was 108 lbs.

My anxiety had gotten to the point where I couldn’t talk to anyone without stammering. My depression so bad that I had written goodbye notes for everyone. My anorexia, at the point that I was actually trying to starve myself to death. Every morning I woke up, I was upset that my body didn’t give up yet.

I kept being told that I would die if I didn’t increase my weight... but I found myself trying to compete with the other people in the program. I found I wasn’t trying to get better, I was trying to stay the smallest.

School started up again, and that only lasted a month. I couldn’t juggle everything. Hell, even just going to school and being surrounded by people was too much for me. I dropped out, again.

After this, all I had was that program. Every day being reminded that there’s something wrong with me, everyday being told I was going to die. Eventually, I just wanted it to happen - just get it over with already. That’s when they signed me up to be administered in their in patient treatment facility.

When I got the call two days later, saying there was a room available... Everything changed. I stopped going to my appointments. I didn’t want to be locked in a facility for 12+ months. I don’t handle authority well.

I finally brought up everything that was happening to my mother, and she said something that completely changed the course of my recovery,

“Why are you letting these people tell you what to do? You never even listened to me. You need to get some control back in your life.”

Once I decided that I was in control, once I stopped going to those meeting, stopped being reminded every day that there was something wrong with me, I started getting better. My psychologist finally found the right medications to help me cope - and things started looking up. His diagnosis of Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder (not to be confused with OCD), among many other diagnosis, explained my whole life - helped me figure out what it is exactly that has made my mind breakdown over the course of my 24 years.

I now fluctuate between 130 and 135lbs. Funny enough, this is the heaviest I’ve ever been. I think that even though I thought I was better before, I was still restricting to a certain degree.

I know now that this will be a life long battle. This isn’t something that just goes away. I have “Anna” caged in my mind, but the whispers are still there. It’s whether or not you choose to give in that makes the difference. I used to think that eating was a loss of control, now I see it as maintaining control.

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I was always the strong one on here, the rock some people needed to lean on, and I thought after you guys knew my struggles, people would lose interest. However the support I received was overwhelming - I never expected anything like I had received. I love you all so much. <3