Remnants: Eating Disorder, Mountains, and Clarity


I am having surgery on Monday. Well, tomorrow morning.

Actually, it’s almost 2 am so…later today.

  They have to fix some things that were probably caused by my eating disorder years ago.
When one purges day after day, one can do some damage to the esophagus and especially
…the lower esophageal sphincter.
Did you know we have more than one sphincter?
Turns out we have several, only one that resembles certain human beings,
(but I have little time for such digressions, I would like to take a nap sometime tonight, or this morning or whenever.)
Where was I…
(The view from the visitor center at Rocky Mountain National Park.)
 The voices in my head have been on overdrive, telling stories of hell.
History has a way of presenting itself in … the present.
And sometimes it’s difficult to differentiate the two.
Here is what happened
– the abbreviated version, with pictures and emojis in between to make it more – palatable.
(See what I did there?)
🤓
(Bear Lake at RMNP. I especially love the reflection
– it’s like a string quartet with mountains, water, rock and tree.)
The eating disorder has always been with me.
As a little girl I hated my body, felt the need to punish myself,
and obsessed on and off about food, weight and exercise.

It amped up when my other addictions began – drinking, using, acting out sexually.

They wove me together – the drugs and drinking helped me lose control,
the sex helped me dissociate,
and the eating disorder put me back in control.
???????????????
When I was 15, in drug rehab, everything changed.

?

   I hadn’t eaten anything of substance in about two weeks.
They were going to force me to eat, so my roommate did what any other caring 16 year old addict would do
– she taught me how to make myself throw up.

?

That became my superpower.

⚡?⚡?⚡?⚡?⚡?⚡

(This is a duck on Lake Sprague.

You can’t see it well here, be we could.

It was adorable )

?

This was in 1984.
I suffered severely for ten years,
hospitalized on a medical unit and then psychiatric unit for 2 months at 17 (at a year clean and sober),
then another eating disorder unit for 3 months at 21,
and another, my last one, for 4 months at 24., followed my a six month hospitalization fro trauma.
Before my last hospitalization, I drank water and ate lettuce just so I could purge.
There were days when I would purge up to 30 times, accomplishing little else,
and (this is hard to talk about) after vomiting up blood and bile, I would often take a box of laxatives just to punish myself.

☹️☹️☹️☹️☹️

 I had so much self hatred and disgust.

(This picture – it’s like I’m looking ahead and behind.
It’s the past and future – in the present. Isn’t that interesting)

And every time I was hospitalized for it, I experienced horrendous flashbacks that I didn’t understand, which lead me to cut myself with whatever I could.

i was not well.

(Plants in the tundra work very hard just to survive.
That’s why they are so precious.)
Poor little Erliss.
(An uprooted tree, root side. I can relate…)

I only wanted to NOT FEEL.

Feeling meant I was not safe, and the way I ate or didn’t eat or purged or worked out hours at a time
– made me feel safe.
Nothing could touch me.
Nothing except, of course, until I was forced to be still,
then I experienced the torture that has resided in my mind and boy since I was little.

I
could not be
still.
(Poudre Lake – up at the Continental Divide.
This water goes to the Atlantic Ocean, and the water on the other side goes to the Pacific Ocean.
It’s weird how that works.)
So tomorrow they will fix a couple of things, and not only does it require me to be still,
but it requires me to care
for
myself.
Why did I go into all of this?
I haven’t binged, purged, or restricted since I was 25.
It’s almost 4 am, and my brain is mush. So what is the point?

I did something on Friday – I took charge of my workaholic self, and decided we were going to the park.

I didn’t care about work, or cleaning or “being there” for anyone else. I needed to go.
And with a clarity that I have not experienced in a long time,
                  I took the 17 year old we care for and we drove up to the park.
(Happy Trails to You – sign at exit of the YMCA of the Rockies in Estes Park.
It was raining in the morning, but then later the rain stopped raining.)

Friends, I am tired.

I’m going to post this, and post the pictures, and remember that I stood still staring at a lake,
and a mountain, and an elk, and a marmot, and the snow, and clouds, and the river,  and  big horn sheep,
and I felt
alright.
 I’m going to take care of myself tomorrow.
All the scary voices in my head are asleep.
 
(A blurry view from the drive at the top, the clouds drifting above the peaks, settling there.)
It’s just me right now.

❤️❤️

Thank you for listening, and following my little journey here.
I apologize for being all over the place – I am tired, but I feel better.
Here is the view at 12,000 feet. It’s a refreshing perspective.
Much Love,
Erliss