Sunday, February 10, 2013

Near death

I put off writing this post yesterday because of everything that has been going on, and I was still trying to recover from the events that took place on Friday night. Something both terrible and miraculous happened to me that night, and I'm going to try to describe it from what T had told me what happened...
I was in the middle of cooking dinner for T, his dad, and I when I started to feel extremely nauseous. I went to the bathroom, leaned over the toilet, and sat there and gagged. Nothing was coming up, but I felt so sick. Then I sat down, curled up in a ball with my arms around my legs and called for T. When he came in, I told him I felt really sick, but I couldn't throw up. I told him something didn't feel right. That something was wrong. He was rubbing my back when I leaned to the side and rested my head on the shower door. This is the last thing I remember.
When I woke up, I was in the hospital, hooked up to an IV, the heart monitor stickers all over my body, and my nurse closely watching me from outside my door. She came in and sat down. Started asking me simple questions like where I was, what month it was, just things like that.
Apparently, this is what happened. After I leaned onto the shower door, T asked me if I felt like I needed to go to the hospital. He didn't get any response from me. Again, he asked a minute later if I needed to go. When he didn't get a response out of me the second time, he went and took dinner out of the oven, told his dad he had to take me, and came back in to take me out to the car. He said when he picked me up, that my body wasn't dead weight like normally it would be, but it was completely stiff. I was stuck in that curled up, almost fetal position. He put me in the car and hauled ass to the hospital. He said that while he was driving, my breathing was really fast, as if I was almost crying.
When we got to the hospital, he told them about my late stages of anorexia. He was highly irritated with the charge nurse because she wasn't taking it as any big thing. He said she was taking her time getting me admitted into the ER. Apparently while I was in the wheelchair, he said that I was still stuck in that fetal position and my legs were just dangling off the front. I was shaking, non responsive and breathing too fast.
Finally they got me back to a room and a male nurse had to lift me out of my chair and put me on the bed. They got me hooked up to the vitals. This is when T's dad took a short video of what was happening. It showed the screen of my vitals. My heart rate was 128, and my oxygen was at 90. Then the video shows me in the bed for a couple seconds, in the almost fetal position, shaking terribly.
One of the things that really scared the doctors was that when a nurse was lifting up my arm to do something, he let go of it, and instead of it falling back down, my arm just stayed put. Stiff up in the air.
The next few hours were spent trying to wake me up. They told T that they were trying everything to get me up. My doctor told him that I was in the very late stages of Anorexia and my mind had shut my body down. I was in a catatonic shock. Pretty much comatose.  That medically, my labs and everything they did looked fine, but that I was non responsive.
Right before I woke up, something happened to me. I was standing below this extremely tall mountain looking up for the sun. Slowly, it started to rise. The most magnificent, biggest sun I had ever seen. And as it was rising, I realized that I could stare at this sun and it wouldn't hurt my eyes at all. And then it happened. He spoke to me. I had my push, my sign, the one I've been so desperately looking for. My miracle. It was God. And he told me that I have so many people that love me. So many people that want to see me live from this. This isn't how I'm meant to go. That I have so much more to live for. I promised him that I would change. Then I woke up.
I know this sounds crazy. And every time I describe what happened, I feel like I've gone nuts. But this was it. And when I finally came around and was talking coherently, I told T that I was excited. That I was ready. I'm going to do this.
And yesterday, I did very well. I ate all 3 of my meals, and even some cherry crisp. I did weigh myself yesterday, but I'm not even going to consider it a real number because I'm sure they put fluids in me while I was in the hospital. I have to admit, this was the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. I AM convinced that Friday was supposed to be my night. That was Ana's final game. She was going to kill me. I was going to die Friday night. But I didn't. I was saved, and I woke up this morning feeling extremely grateful for another chance. Much love.
XOXO Katie

Friday, February 8, 2013


This really has been a crappy week. Still no word from insurance. They sure are taking their sweet time with all of this. All the while, I'm still losing...
Losing my relationship with T. Losing my battle with Anorexia. Losing any of the friends that I thought I had left. Losing my will and fight. Losing my strength. Everything seems to be spiralling down into a hole that I thought was berried when I left treatment the first time. All these hopes that I had for recovery was really a trick that my eating disorder was playing on me. "Do everything that you're supposed to while you're in here, then you can get out and be 'better'" she said. Little did I know at the time, what she really meant was, "just push through, put on some weight, and then the faster you do all of this, the faster you will get out of here."
I came to a sad realization this week that I need friends. My eating disorder has done a pretty good job at pushing away any people in my life that were trying to help me. People that I would have now for a great support that are gone. Whether they gave up trying to help, or they have become too busy, I don't have anyone it feels like. I mean, I have people that I hang out with on occasion, but as far as turning to them for help, I lack the capability to be vulnerable and ask them to listen.
Honestly, I went to my DBT therapy today and the first thing she asked me was what's wrong. Ooooh, where to begin? I am sick and tired of being sick and tired. Giving up and a feeling of hopelessness lingers in the thick tension in every room I'm in. Guilt, shame, disgust, anger, fear. These are all feelings that I am constantly feeling. I feel them if I skip a meal, I feel them if I eat. I feel them when I take laxatives. I feel them every time I go into the restroom. I feel them every time T and I argue about Ana and the effect she has had on our relationship.
These feelings are common when it comes to T and I. I feel guilty, and ashamed, and disgusted that I have put him through this for a good solid year now. And how lucky am I to have such a wonderful man who has stuck by my side? Like he said this morning, a lesser man would have walked a long time ago. I feel anger towards Ana for taking over our relationship and using me as her puppet. I feel fear every morning that I won't make it through the day without my eating disorder becoming a topic of discussion between the two of us.
I also have fear of dying. But it's not as overwhelming as I would like it to be, or need it to be. A person in their right mind would have stopped each and every behavior when their doctor told them they had a year left to live. A person with an eating disorder doesn't hear that. They think that it can't happen to them. That it WON'T happen to them. Well if there's one thing I would like everyone to know is that it's happening to me. 4lbs in one week. 4lbs since I saw my DBT therapist last week. 81 measly pounds. My dog weighs more than I do. But why can't it just seem to stop? I question every day that if God truly loved me, why won't he take this disease away from me? If he loves my children, why won't he take this disease away from me?
Most people's faith grows stronger in recovery, but for me, it's slowing diminishing. And of course I feel guilty for saying that. I know that God loves all of children. I know that he made me in a unique way. But all I'm asking for is a push. A sign. Something to show me that I need to keep fighting. Something to make me keep fighting. Because to be completely honest, I don't think there is enough fight in me to do this on my own. That's why I'm trying to hard to get back into treatment. But I can't just sit here and wait for them to make up their minds. No. If I lose another 4lbs in a week, that would put me at 77.
I've done good and have went to all my appointments, groups, therapies this week. Doing everything I can for IOP. But if I'm not following my meal plan, I'm not going to get anywhere. Food scares me. Calories scare me. I'm am terrified of becoming a huge blob again. I feel the need to have this control over my own body because the control was taking away from me at such a young age, thanks to my brother and my uncle. Someone else had control over me. And in the years I was supposed to be forming myself as a person, a boyfriend controlled that too. This is my sense of control that I am taking back from them. But this can't keep going on like this. I'm dying, both physically, and emotionally. I'm a shell of the Katie that everyone used to know.
My eating disorder has caused me to be deceitful, has formed an addiction, has caused me to lie to those that I love with all my heart. By nature, I'm not any of these things. But Ana has made me become this monster. This monster that everyone is having such a hard time coping with. If Ana were a real life person, I would shoot her. I would cut her. I would make sure that she would never hurt me again. Or anyone for that matter. I've got 4 months til I hit that one year mark, and it scares me everyday. I'm terrified. I'm hurting. I'm lost. And no one can seem to find me.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

Sorry I've been hiding

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've posted. I know quite a bit of you have been worried about me, and it doesn't make it better when I go so long without posting. I appreciate all the love and prayers I have been receiving from all of you. In all honesty, I've been hiding away from the world for the last week. I've barely been on facebook neither. So where to start?
I'm 83lbs. Been here for a few days. It's fluctuated up and down, but hasn't gone any lower. But apparently 83lbs isn't sick enough to some people, some people that are in charge of me getting into treatment. I don't want to go into too much detail because we are trying to get everything figured out. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I might end up doing Intensive Outpatient Therapy this week and then go inpatient next week. Fucking insurance has fucked me over this past week. But IOP still consists of me being seen everyday. Classes and appointments, but not staying in the house this week.
I've been extremely emotional since they told me. This is why I've been away. But because insurance didn't get the whole story and they heard only what they wanted to hear, my therapist, my DBT counselor and a few other people have to fight them to get me IP next week.
I said bye to my boys this week. That was really hard. But this time when I come back, I will be a better mom to them and a better girlfriend to T. After dropping my youngest off with his dad yesterday, T and I went through a short drive in the mountains. It was nice and relaxing. So if I don't get IP this week, it gives us this week to spend together just the two of us. But I am really hoping we get this shit with insurance figured out. I knew something bad was going to happen with them.
Being only 83lbs is kicking my ass. I have been throwing up so much these last few days. Not on purpose either. It usually happens about a half hour after I eat. I just can't stomach food. I have been spending a great deal of my time sitting on the couch. I feel "bed" ridden because I can't stand for long periods of time, I get dizzy and come close to falling over. It's terrible. Also the laxies haven't gotten better. I still have to take them to be anything close to normal. Which is destroying my stomach and my sleeping. I can't sleep worth a shit right now. I'm up too many times in the middle of the night. I fell asleep on the bathroom floor last night.
And on top of everything, I finally caught the cold that everyone has had. The problem with being so underweight, this cold is kicking my ass more than it would be if I was healthy. T said that he's worried it will turn into pneumonia for me because my immune system can't handle it like everyone else's can. Today is Superbowl. Not a big celebration in our house this year. T's dad is coming over and I'm making snacks and what not and then dinner, but T and I went out to brunch this morning and I ate entirely too much. Threw some of it up because my stomach couldn't handle it. So I might not eat dinner when they do. We'll see. So tomorrow I go and meet with the doctor down at the ed clinic and then he will make a case to insurance about why I should be admitted into IP instead of IOP. So I would appreciate all the prayers I can get this week. I hope you are all doing well. Much love.
XOXO Katie