This week is a very exciting/important week for me. October 6th (which is this Friday) marks one year since I was discharged from treatment!! Super awesome(: This not only has had me reflecting on how far I've come, but has me thinking A LOT about my first day of treatment. Here's how it went down:
That day I started was almost like any other. I got up, got dressed, got in my car, and hopped on the expressway. It seemed as if nothing was out of the ordinary on this specific Monday. Until I passed the exit that I normally get off for work. Then it started to feel a little odd. I got off 3 exits later, and parked in the parking lot of my treatment center. I remember looking around and hoping no one would see me walking in, which is funny to me now because I had only been living in Tennessee for 3 months, so I didn't really know that many people at this point. I walked in and sat in the waiting room. The whole thing was so surreal to me in that moment. Another girl walked in and sat in the waiting room, and eventually the lady who had done my evaluation came out and called me and this other girl into her office to go over paperwork and rules, etc. She handed me a large folder filled with a bunch of papers and packets. When she started reading the rules out loud, it hit me. I realized where I was, and that this would be my life for the next X amount of weeks. And I started crying. To be honest, I don't think I stopped until after I left treatment that day, 6 hours later. After rules and such, she gave us a tour and introduced us to some staff members who were in their offices. I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. Then, she brought us into the group room and introduced us to the girls in the group who had just gotten back from breakfast and were getting settled for the first group session. I just remember sitting there crying. Someone walked in and started group and I don't think I absorbed anything. I just cried and cried and cried silently in my chair wishing I was any where but there. Another one of the girls in treatment passed me a note telling me that I was strong. I still have that. It meant the world to me. I remember looking at all these girls in the group and they all looked comfortable there. I could not ever imagine feeling that way. After what seemed like forever, it was time to move onto the next group. The group that day was art group. We were instructed to draw a picture of how we felt inside. I'll never forget the picture I drew. I drew an outline of a person with a thunderstorm in their head and huge boulders on their shoulders. This was exactly how i felt all the time. I remember drawing the picture, through tears, thinking "I am 25 years old. I should not be in a cold treatment center drawing pictures like a child. I should be at work, making money and being productive". After art, we had a little bit of time before lunch. I went to the bathroom with a group of girls, because we weren't allowed to go on our own. And again I was upset because I was an adult being babysat in the bathroom. Then it was lunch time. I walked in and all the girls were setting up their lunch and I was so confused as to what I should even be doing. A staff member helped me out, which made me feel like a child. And lunch seemed HUGE. We all went into the kitchen and sat down and every one around me was eating and talking and I wanted to die inside. I didn't want to take a bite. I didn't want to talk to these girls. But I didn't want to make a scene. So i quietly ate, hating myself more and more every bite, and only answered questions directed specifically at me. After lunch we cleaned up as a group and then headed to our last group of the day, where again, I couldn't tell you what we talked about cause I sat curled up in a chair and cried. I remember some one told me "I know it's bad. The second day is even worse. Just keep coming back" I went home and was more tired than I have ever been in my life- both physically and emotionally.
I did go back, and I'll be honest, the second day was even harder. But every day after that, it got easier and easier. 13 weeks later, I didn't want to leave. I was comfortable there. I had my ED under control there, but was too scared to enter the real world.
But here I am, one year after leaving. It hasn't been perfect. But that thunderstorm inside my head has seen more sunny days than rainy days lately, and those boulders on my shoulders seem a lot less heavy most days. Like maybe they are pebbles now. And maybe one day, they will go away all together.
