Are You Ready?

This is a very difficult post to write, but I'm making myself write it because otherwise I'll never admit it. All the doctors, nurses, dietitians, therapists, psychiatrists, cardiologists, etc tell you that you have to want to get better. Without this desire you will be alright on your own for a while, but then you will slip back into your old, comforting behaviors. For a brief time you will gain some semblance of control over your illness, but then it will overtake you once again. It doesn't mean that you were playing games with your treatment team, or that you weren't really doing the work, it just means that you weren't ready to want to get better.

I worked my ass off in treatment and was constantly praised for it by the staff and my team, the constant people pleaser to a fault. However, the whole time I was there I repeatedly said "I'm not ready," "I don't think I'll be able to do this on my own out there," "I'm still too afraid to get better." But I kept pushing myself harder and harder (I attacked it just like everything else in life, and perhaps that's part of the problem) until the next thing I knew I was being told that I was being discharged the next morning. As the news spread of my coming departure I was asked by staff, doctors and my social worker "So you ready for this? You feeling good?" and I said "Yes, of course." What else was there to say?

My head was reeling, how could I possibly go from eating nothing at all, to eating full meals and snacks under direct supervision of nurses and mental health counselors, to eating full meals and snacks all on my own? The morning of my discharge I sat with my dietitian who praised me for compiling the perfect week long meal plan, my social worker who praised me for being so honest with her about what I needed, my doctor who praised me for making such huge strides in repairing both my mental and physical health, and various staff members who all praised me for the amazing amount of effort I'd put into my treatment all while being such a pleasure to work with. Then after signing a few papers I was ushered out the door with a quick "Good luck!" and I was on my own.

I went out to my car, put my bag in the trunk, sat behind the wheel and cried like a baby. I should've been thrilled to go home, but I was terrified. I still am. I followed my meal plan for two days and haven't looked at it since. Yesterday my doctor asked how I've been eating and I was honest with her, she said it was fine as long as I was eating something and still gaining (which I am). The past few days I've felt my depression creeping back in and the ED voices are screaming louder than ever. I'm fighting it, but I'm so exhausted.

I wish I knew why I'm so afraid to let go, why I don't feel like I can let myself get better. It's not just about control, I know that, but I don't know what the bigger picture is. I'm afraid that I'll end up back in treatment, and while I was taught that it's ok to hit speed bumps once in a while, when do those speed bumps become all engulfing potholes?