In 1999, I admitted myself into Charter Hospital. Now, Charter Hospital was a hospital for drug abusers and alcoholics with this really small wing – just two rooms really – for bulimics, anorexics and chronic over eaters. My diagnosis - bulimia. At that time, I had been bulimic for over 5 years and I could have continued on for many more years but my secret was slowing getting out and I was on the verge of truly killing myself. My marriage was basically just a friendship (no passion and honestly no real love) – my job was completely overwhelming me and I was in the deepest, biggest, longest roller coaster of “cycling” I had ever had in my life. Of course, I had no idea what “cycling” even was if I didn’t do it on a bicycle. Thank God, Charter did.
So, anyway, I had been at the doctor’s office confessing my urge to “end it all” (but I had a 12 year old son at home that needed me and I didn’t want to let him down) and they convinced me to call my dad and have him take me to Charter because that was the only place that had an opening at the time for suicidal bulimics - LOL. (I know it's not really funny.)
Some things need to be address right here: #1 – For some reason, I felt more comfortable in my disease at that moment calling my abusive father to take me to the hospital than anyone else in the world (I think I was just too embarrassed to face anyone else) – including my husband AND #2 my boss at the time (who is now my husband) was very much a part of my reaching out for help in the first place. He still is a huge part of my stability!
Now, back to our story…. You may wonder how I ended up bulimic. It was simply a transition from the “self-harm” stage of my teenage years. You see, when your life is out or control you need so desperately to have just one thing you can control. I found that I could control what I ate and ultimately decided to keep in my body. The great thing about bulimia was I still got to hurt myself in the process. It’s no day at the park making yourself throw up but it was one of the hardest things in the world to quit doing. (I'm sure one day I'll "blog" about that, too.)
At Charter, by the Grace of God, I was hooked up with a Dr that asked the right questions and really listened to my answers – and for the first time in my life I answered the questions honestly. He thought I just might be Manic Depressive. Heck, I was willing to go with whatever he wanted to try to make me better and we started with trying different medications….
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