As discussed in a previous post, isolation was a big attraction to the eating disorder for me. I began to isolate from family, a relationship, and friendships. Selfishly, it was easier for me to restrict and exhaust my energy sources to numb out if I didn't have to worry about making conversation, feeling emotions, and all the other normal functions of a healthy, nourished brain. The severe restriction had taken its toll on my mental health as much as my physical health. I was working an intense 9 to 5 internship while writing a thesis, trying to keep up an intense workout regime, and manage a long-distance relationship. That alone was a stressful enough schedule for even the healthiest person. Severe restriction causes your body to go into survival mode, basically switching off any lesser important functions because it's doing everything it can to keep your heart beating and your blood pumping.
The best way I can relate it is a computer which has switched to sleep mode. My body was on sleep mode. It was technically on and had background processes running but it's relatively useless on sleep mode; there's no energy being put into communication with the outside world or engaging the user. Work became almost impossible. There were times I would sit staring at my computer, with a migraine searing through my skull, unable to find the energy to fill in my spreadsheets and analyze the data. What took most interns an hour would take me two or three. I sat at my desk drinking hot tea all day, with jackets and sweaters layered, and hot hands in my lap begging the clock to speed up (one major con of being an insanely low BMI is not having the body composition to keep yourself warm; I was cold all the time. I once sat in the sun with a sweatshirt and a blanket and was still cold). This should have been a red flag but the disorder was so strong and so loud I couldn't change. I loved my internship with all my heart but even that couldn't pull me out of the depths of hell which I had flung myself into. Not even the man I loved, the hobbies I enjoyed, the family I cherished, and the friendships I adored could pull me away.
A girl I met in Residential compared her eating disorder to feeling possessed, and I couldn't agree more. Isolating became a safe haven, where I could starve and numb out without hurting anyone, without damaging relationships, without telling the truth. I was wallowing in denial and deceit, thinking I was protecting those I loved from finding out what was really going on. I would try to talk to my partner, my family, my friends in the evenings and couldn't handle conversations longer than five or ten minutes because I didn't have the energy and bandwidth to spare. I look back now and the warning signs were everywhere but I was blinded until the disorder ultimately took everything from me. I had become emotionless, basically a shell of a once beautiful soul. I broke up with my partner in an angry outburst because I felt I didn't have the emotional strength or energy to deal with the stresses of a relationship. I lied to the people I loved most and had to admit I wasn't okay. In my search for help, I was recommended for residential treatment which meant being shipped off to Florida. I had to withdraw from my last semester of undergrad (I was supposed to graduate in December), I had to leave my internship three weeks early, and I was about to be thrown to the lions in a setting I wasn't comfortable with and was terrified of.
My eating disorder took everything from me. It took me away from everyone and everything I hold near and dear. You know what? FUCK YOU ED, YOU SUCK. (For those of you who aren't familiar with eating disorders, we often refer to the hypothetical voice in our head as Ed).
