Relapse

This is not a blog with statistics on relapse. I will not be providing you with five effective ways to prevent a relapse. Nor will I be helping you spot the warning signs of relapse in the one that you love. Rather, this blog is about my own personal experience with relapsing.

I have been in recovery from an eating disorder for almost ten years now. However, I spent the ten years prior to that repeatedly recovering and then relapsing again. The first time I entered recovery, I attended a partial hospitalization program when I was seventeen. I went there every day instead of school for months. How many months? I think three. My dad would drop me off in the morning and I would have my breakfast and lunch there. My days were filled with groups, and skill building, and art therapy, and getting weighed, and seeing nutritionists, and therapists, and all kinds of people with letters after their names. I got better. Things went on normal for the next year or so. I continued to be monitored by doctors.

The summer before I was to go away to college, my mother left. She packed her bags and took my brothers with her, leaving myself and my dad behind. So, I relapsed. My dad was at work all day. I was confused by my mother’s behavior and my family’s dynamics. I decided to cope by engaging in my eating disorder. Near the end of the summer, I weighed eighty-one pounds. After a weigh in, I was told I would not be going away to college unless I gained the weight back. I gained the weight back. I wanted to get the hell out of my house. I had gained the weight back, but mentally, I was very sick. It wasn’t too long at college before my body began to reflect my mind, and once again, I was at risk of being sent home from school. The campus looked at me as a health risk. As a result, I was forced into therapy. I met an awesome therapist that helped me get my stuff together. And I kept it together for the rest of school. When I graduated, I moved into a place of my own. After about a year, I entered a relationship that would end up being incredibly volatile. I got out, but once again, I relapsed.

So how did I get better this time, do you ask? Now, I was on my own. I was no longer under the observation of parents or teachers. I had no required doctor’s visits. Now, I did not have a partner that might recognize what was going on. I got better after that last relapse because I wanted to. I can’t tell you how many times I looked in the mirror around that time and thought, “I just want to be normal”. So, I decided to just start trying to be normal again. It took a while, but I faked it until I made it. I got better, and I have not engaged in my eating disorder since. It is important to remember that I had years of therapy, previous meal plans developed by registered dietitians, and a whole toolbox of coping skills at that point to fall back on. I chose to do what I knew I was supposed to do if I wanted to be healthy, and ‘normal’.

I share this story with you because although I had struggled for many years, I eventually recovered. The reason recovery finally stuck for me, was because for the first time, I wanted it. Don’t give up hope for yourself or the one that you love. Recovery is possible.

If you would like to speak to a professional counselor or psychologist about this and are in the Chicago area, please feel free to contact Olive Branch Counseling Associates, Inc. at 708-633-8000. We are located at 6819 West 167^th Street in Tinley Park, Illinois 60477.

Hillary R.,

Masters Level Intern, 2023