I left for Cornerstone for my second year, and the eating disorder was worse then ever. Those first few weeks I ended up losing quite a bit of weight, and I kept getting worse. Jessica was there with me all the way. She finally came to a point where she told me that I needed more help than she could give me. So, together (with her posing as me on the phone since I was crying too hard to make myself do it), we called our school counseling office and set up an appointment for me. I was scared out of my mind, but I went. It turned out to be amazing, and I truly loved my counselor. I was sent to the school nutritionist from there, only to find out that my blood levels were not where they needed to be. I was in an anabolic stage, which meant that my body was feeding off of itself for a very long time. This scared those around me because no one knew if my body was feeding off of vital organs or not. So, Jess helped me again to start eating a little bit each day, and the nutritionist put me on nutritional supplement drinks to help me get out of the anabolic state. I told my suitemates what was going on, and they helped me as well. However, with the eating getting better, the cutting and purging only got worse. I was cutting deeper and more frequently; I was even starting to scare myself. I bled through a lot of clothes, and walking was a huge task because of the pain I had to disregard as the cuts covered my legs.
Soon after that they sent me to an eating disorder specialist for therapy once a week, but nothing got better. She brought out painful memories that I had suppressed, and it only heightened my desire to destroy myself. I hated how I looked, and I started wearing even bigger clothes than the baggy ones I was shrinking out of. I hated my body and wanted no one to see what I looked like. I despised the face I saw in the mirror.
After about 2 months of trying to eat, I gave up. I could not do it anymore, and the eating disorder fully took over. I stopped eating. I cut multiple times a day, as deep as the strength in my arm would press down. I took laxatives throughout the whole day, and I vomited whenever I was made to eat. I got so weak that walking to classes was a burden. I couldn't even force myself to practice my fiddle. I had lost interest even in the music that gave me so much life before---and that truly scared me. I slept most of the time, for I had no energy to do anything else. I took about three naps a day, and only awoke when my worried suitemates came in to see if I was all right. I secluded myself from everyone, and I found myself getting depressed.
I stopped eating for days in a row, and one morning found my heart racing exceptionally fast. I could barely walk to get into the shower, and kept feeling myself 'start to lose it' and about to faint. It was Sunday, December 4, 2005 . I confided in my suitemates how I felt that day, and they in turn told me I needed to get help. We all went and talked to Jessica, and they all basically agreed that I needed further help. They called my counselor, but were disappointed when she told them to wait to see my therapist on Wednesday. I was relieved because I was too scared to get more help. My suitemates and Jessica talked to me and asked questions, but I do not remember much of what they said. All I do know is that every time I spoke, they told me that I wasn't making sense. I wasn't being coherent. The eating disorder had consumed me, and there was nothing rational left within me. All that came out of my mouth was destruction, and I was too blind from the eating disorder to see it. I fought them, because I couldn't make sense of what they were trying to do to me.
Well, Wednesday, December 7th came and I shall never forget that day. Jess went to therapy with me and told my therapist of her concern. By that time I was in another one of my 'starving escapades' (where I would try to see how many days I could go without eating anything at all), and had not eaten anything but a salad in over 5 days. I was mentally gone, drained. My therapist called around, and with the providence of God found ONE bed in all of the area that was open in the psychiatric hospitals. We believed it a miracle that God allowed a place to be open when it seemed impossible. They held the bed for me, and I cried. I remember crying in Jessica's arms while my therapist set up all of the details. I was literally in hysterics as she held me there. "I don't want to go! I am not sick! Please don't do this to me!" I cried. But, Jessica had the grace of God, and gently held me and told me I'd be all right. I know it was one of the hardest things she had ever done, but her strength covered me when I was a wreck there in that room.
I had about three hours before I was to be at the hospital's office. So, Jessica and my suitemates packed up my belongings and helped me get ready to go. There were many tears and worries as they took me to the psych ward. I felt deserted as I was admitted and separated from my friends. I knew they loved me, but I could not understand why I had to be there and why I could not be with them. I felt alone. I cried for almost 3 days straight as I was in group after group, had blood taken and checked, had many nurses checking on me, weighed every day and not able to see the weight, forced to eat, and monitored at all costs. I felt like a prisoner, and I was scared. I was diagnosed with anorexia, bulimia, self-injury, anxiety, and major depression. They put me on medication.
Over the days spent there, I realized that I was not alone. God was with me---even there in a locked-up hospital, God was there. And, I gradually started to feel, I mean really FEEL. It was scary, because I had never felt like that in my entire life. I felt a tiny bit of 'real-ness' as I sat there trying to eat what they told me to. I had hit rock bottom and I had no where else to go. It was there in a mental health psychiatric ward, that I hit a breaking point and was able to think clearly for the first time in a long while. I realized that God wanted me to get better. There was more to life out there. God had saved me by putting me in that hospital. I know that I would have come closer to death over Christmas break if God had not put those people in my life at that time to get me to that hospital. It was there that I realized for the first time, a little part of me wanted to be FREE for MYSELF. I, Regina, wanted to get better for me . I believed that God had a plan in all of this, and I believed that He would be glorified through me. I realized that it was His strength that had given me life thus far, and only His strength could continue to help me out of this pit.
Every evening in the ward, I would sit at the payphone and talk to Jess. We talked of God, of freedom, of a better life; Of my future---eating disorder-free. I was filled with new ambition and a determination to get better.
Today, I am out of the hospital. Today, I am trying to eat. Today, I am trying to eliminate cutting and today I am not purging. I am now at a healthy weight and I am being monitored by professionals. I go to counseling and therapy still, and have appointments with a dietician and psychiatrist. The depression has gotten better and I am learning to work through my anxiety. I am not wholly better, but I am more stable now than I have ever been. Each day, I struggle with thoughts and desires to go back into my destructive behavior. And, I will not lie---- I have had days where I cut myself or do not eat enough, and I constantly look into the mirror and see someone who I do not like. But, this time it is different because I pick myself back up and start anew the next day. This time it does not feel hopeless. I am surrendering all of this to God, and He is guiding me through it. Yes, I fear that I will fall heavily back into that trap. I fear it every time I have a thought, every time I eat, every time I feel like purging, and every time I slip-up and cut, or those times when I do not eat. But, I know that I have God on my side. He is taking care of me. I want to get better for Him and the future that He has for me. I want to glorify Him, and I know that He does not want me to hurt through eating disorders and self-injury.
Each day is a struggle, but I know that I can get better. We all can get better. There is so much to live for.
Regina
