Hell of a Year

It’s only May and I’m already saying it’s been a hell of a year. To be fair, I stole the title from my favorite song by Parker McCollum. But I’m not here to talk about music; I want to try out that whole fearless thing and be honest.

Since mid February I have been unable to tolerate food. No, it is not voluntary purging but instead something is physiologically wrong with my gastrointestinal system. My symptoms have gotten progressively worse despite working with five different doctors, my therapist, and dietitian. I’m no longer able to tolerate liquids and everything I eat comes back up.

I was diagnosed with gastroparesis, delayed stomach emptying, and put on many different medications to help improve my symptoms. Unfortunately, nothing has helped so I’ve been going through testing to rule out any more significant medical complication. I am blessed that I have had an MRI and CT scan come back normal along side a relatively normal upper endoscopy. I’m currently waiting on a motility study to further confirm my diagnosis of gastroparesis. I can’t do the motility study until I can tolerate food so I’m stuck in a rut right now.

I’ve been working closely with GI doctors and doctors who specialize in eating disorder treatment throughout this situation. After getting news that a lot of my blood work is abnormal, with the most sadness and the largest sense of defeat, I will be admitting to an eating disorder oriented hospital program. Seeing as how an eating disorder hospital may very well be the last place I ever wanted to find myself again- I am terrified.

I’ve been through treatment three other times but never for a medical complication. My previous admissions were for my mental health but surprisingly, right now, I’m doing great mentally. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, coming off a full semester back at school where I was able to get a 4.0 gpa. I’M DOING BIG THINGS!

But alas, my body refuses to catch up with my mind and I’m headed back to hell.

I’ve tried looking at this situation many different ways. The first way being Ashlyn: full of rage and anger. When I go to treatment, I’m mean. I take pride in my illness and I often find myself fighting with anyone who will give me the time of day. I hate losing control so I bend the rules and try to divide my team until I get exactly what I want. I also tend to engage in extremely toxic relationships that allow my disorder to thrive. To be honest, the person I am in treatment is so far from who I am today that I’m concerned I’ll get overwhelmed and go back to evil Ashlyn, resulting in me feeling hopeless.

The second way I can look at it is in a more positive light. Going to treatment with the sole purpose of correcting my medical complications will essentially save my life. It is not sustainable to never eat and vomit nonstop. This could be an opportunity to rest, get my body healthy, while also being a source of support to other patients. I’m not recovered by any means but I am trying and I do have positivity to share. That would be a new role for me in terms of my place in treatment.

I recognize now more than ever that I will not be in control of my body, my weight gain, or most external factors as soon as I walk through those hospital doors. However, I am in control of how I behave, the way I treat others, and the amount on internal work I allow myself to do. Going back to inpatient treatment will be an opportunity to test my ability to self-sooth when I feel backed into a corner. It will give me the chance to fight my urges to be “right” and get what I want when I feel completely out of control. It will also be an opportunity to show that nothing can stop me on my path to recovery. I can do this. No one said it would be easy and the world sure as hell isn’t letting me believe it will be.

With all of that being said, I will not have access to my laptop but I will continue writing blogs in a notebook. If I find a way, I will try to post. If I’m gone for a while, I’m probably busy peeing while someone watches me, getting my labs drawn, waking up at the crack of dawn, or doing word-searches.

To wrap this up I want to give huge shout out to my outpatient team. When I started working with both my therapist and dietitian I hated them. I thought I didn’t need them and I didn’t like being called out on my bullshit. As my life has changed and my body has changed, they have proven to be two of the best people I’ve ever known. They’ve taught me that I can trust others and that not everyone is a threat. As I go through this unpredictable and overwhelming treatment stay, I know they will be supporting me in any way possible.

I’m anxious to get this party started again but I am hopeful that I will come out stronger in every sense of the word. Its not a bad life, just a bad day. ;)