So let’s talk about the elephant in the room, waving his trunk over there in the corner. I give him the occasional pat but mainly leave him to his own devices much to my shame. I have throughout this process made progress of a numerical kind. That’s not to say that this is linear, it’s been more like a rusty old rollercoaster, and it’s not all about the weight by any means. Every peak I reach seems to reveal another summit just out of reach. Though weight restoration is necessary for recovery, weight gain on its own it seems is not full recovery.
Importantly, I certainly don’t want a pat on the head for the weight regain. On the contrary, this feels difficult enough without someone recognising my increase in size. So the figure on the scale continues to creep up, and I’m now beginning to approach what is universally recognised as a ‘healthy weight” for my height. My aim for the next week or two is to reach the magic BMI of 18.5 and then in the forthcoming weeks work on getting out of here as soon as possible. I’ve learnt over time that its all about compliance with the system, whether this be real or faked. I’m wary of showing any signs of personality, but I fear might just start to get a little more opinionated. I am genuinely confused as to whether my desire to get out of here is my eating disorderly monkey telling me I no longer need help or if it’s the healthy me, wanting to resume a full and meaningful life and spend more time at home.
Since arriving home from Italy, I have been sleeping at home but staying in the clinic for long days, not leaving until after the evening meal at 6.30. Consequently I have found the last few days very wearing. I am driving home in rush hour, eating yet another snack and falling asleep in front of the TV. A new patient has arrived, who, not to put too fine a point on it, is not quite as high functioning as other patients. Her presence, with broken spectacles, dressed in a leopard skin onesie with her unwashed hair sticking up vertically, is both heart wrenching and serves to remind me that I am currently part of and in an institution. As I start to feel better, however fragile, the less I seem to be able to tolerate. I am desperate to resume my normal life but at the same time I am terrified that I have potentially ruined my career prospects and relationships with people who I can’t at the moment deal with.
We had a sobering community meeting today about self harm and attempted suicide. Those issues are sadly endemic if not universal amongst eating disorder patients and made for some very difficult conversations. Possibly wrongly, I would always choose not to engage with such disturbing matters, though here it is perceived as disordered to maintain that British stiff upper lip. I am all for naming the demon and removing the stigma from mental health issues, but can see that there is a danger too in bringing it out into the open. There is a dark sense of competition here which can be very unhelpful.
Which, in a nutshell, makes me appreciate the extra time at home all the more, whether considered to be beneficial or not!