Post with Plenty of Side Notes

Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.     -Plato

When I started my intensive treatment earlier this summer I didn't go into a lot of detail with people. I wasn't ready- it was all too much, too quickly, too much to take in. 

Yes, I "knew" it was coming. We had discussed it, and how it might be the best option for me if I were not making the progress I needed during the months of April/May. Still, when my therapist suggested we begin to fill out the paperwork, and called to see how long the waiting list to enter was, I was shocked. (Hey, don't accuse me of being bright here, okay? Or mature. I may/may not have stuck my tongue out at him when he turned to dial the phone.) 

While I sat there, crossing my fingers the wait list was uber long, I was even more shocked to hear I could start intake the next day, and possibly start the following week. 

It was hard, very hard, to go through the intake process. The meeting with the clinical manager of the group, the dietician, the med doctor (in which we found I had an extended QTC which meant I had to have weekly EKG's), talk to family and friends, arrange daycare, look at what would happen with my job...I was a bit overwhelmed. 

I spent the first week pissed at the world. Pissed at my therapist for putting me in there (Okay, I am an adult, but he totally suggested it, therefore, I assigned all blame to him.) 

I was +positive+ after my first 15 minutes on my first day that there had been a terrible mistake. Clearly, clearly, I was not in the same league as these people. There was an error. 

No one kicked me out or suggested otherwise though which tanned my hide (if that is a correct euphemism to use here, not sure, but the point? I was sure someone was off their rocker, and it was NOT me.) 

Second week? I started to adjust- little by little. I may have even talked a little bit. And maybe, just maybe, I started to see the ways in which this could benefit me. I also had to talk to my school district about a leave of absence...uh, that was fun. Side note: In case you are wondering, I do not appear to be anorexic, I appear to be healthy, I don't look like I need help, and people may wonder if I am "working" the system. (Side note on this side note: yes, I am working the system, to the tune of it costing our family $2000/month out of pocket...)  I think it took me a good week if by week you mean way longer than a week to process that. Not to mention having to deal with rumors, talking, and all that goes along with people finding out you are on a leave.

Basically, that was my long, convoluted way of telling you it took me some time to adjust. Which I did say in the first paragraph, but in true Sara fashion, I felt the need to elaborate. 

Now? I am several weeks in and making good progress. Yes there are a few things that I'm struggling with. 

Hello bad horrible rotten killin me body image 

My stomach? Doesn't digest food quickly, so I am full all the time. Which sounds nice but try eating when you feel like you have morning sickness. 

Running? Has been hard because of it too. I am supposed to pace my sister in the Twin Cities Marathon in a few weeks here, but I need to get my stomach crud figured out before...cause every run has been junk with that. I'm shooting for a long run sometime this week and will use that as a gauge. 

I keep adjusting my meal plan to what I feel is a good amount, but my silly dietician keeps changing it back. (Like having a degree in nutrition makes her an expert or something? I mean, she didn't even let me count my adult beverages as fats for the day. In my world it worked.) 

Recovery is a journey- one with setbacks, triumphs, trials, sloppy jo day at therapy, which was pretty much the worst day of my life- but the overall journey is beautiful.