Warrior Voices Ana
Recovery is empowering
My name is Ana Dobrot. I am 18 years old, and a freshman at St. Bonaventure University. In August 2020, the summer after my freshman year of high school, I was diagnosed with restrictive anorexia nervosa (RAN). I was hospitalized for two weeks for safe physical rehabilitation, then released to twelve weeks of partial hospitalization treatment followed by ten weeks of intensive outpatient treatment. I exhibited acute symptoms for approximately 5 months before my diagnosis, but had struggles with disordered thoughts and behaviors for several years. I also continued to struggle with eating disorder behaviors for several years into my recovery. As my family and I entered the recovery process, we began to understand the magnitude of the task we were undertaking. During my initial hospitalization, we all thought I would be fully recovered by Christmas… but fast forward to November, I was still exhibiting acute restrictive thoughts and behaviors. While I knew I needed support to make it through meals and snacks, I still felt incredibly stifled being watched every time I ate, having to eat lunch at school with the guidance counselor instead of my friends, and feeling like I had to structure my whole days around my meal plan.
One of my behaviors was excessive exercise, so out of fear for my safety, my parents didn’t allow me to be alone for months. I slept on a mattress on their floor and went to the bathroom with the door open. Additionally, my parents and I had been taught to “separate the eating disorder from myself” as a way to help me connect with my “healthy brain,” but in reality this only confused me and alienated me from myself. I felt a complete loss of identity and autonomy. Because of this, the initial stages of my recovery were very mentally and emotionally taxing. As I have grown in my recovery, I have realized that perfection truly is the enemy to my progress. I had to allow myself, and teach my parents to allow me to make mistakes.
Of course, I also had to do a lot of therapy work to help recognize and hold myself accountable when I had slips in recovery, and to prevent those same slips from happening again. However, once I realized that it was unrealistic to expect a recovery that myself or others could consider “perfect”, I found that I was much more motivated and successful at meeting my goals. I discovered that gradual progress was much more sustainable than sudden perfection, and that when I set a few, specific goals, I could achieve things that may otherwise have seemed unattainable. Almost three and a half years into my recovery, after several slips and relapses, I can say that I am in a strong and stable place. I cannot say for certain that I will never slip again. I know that life is unpredictable, and that reverting to eating disorder behaviors may be a comfortable coping option.
However, I am confident that I can recognize the eating disorder creeping in, and even more confident that I do not want to return to that place. I no longer want to reduce my identity to that of the eating disorder. Today, although I still attend regular nutrition and therapy appointments, I am able to focus mostly on my schoolwork and hobbies while recovery comes more naturally. I am studying bioinformatics on a pre-med track, and am committed to GW School of Medicine through an early admission program. I enjoy making music, painting and drawing, weightlifting, rock climbing, and skiing, and bake themed desserts with my friends for every holiday. As I reflect back on my recovery journey, I want to validate every moment of fear and despair one might feel during the early (or not so early) stages of recovery. It may seem impossible to ever focus your energy on anything else but this struggle.
But as healing starts taking place, and glimpses of "the other life" creep back in, allow yourself to enjoy them and remember they will become more frequent. Slowly, and with loving support, one can regain the ability to live a full life, to enjoy their real passions, and keep distress at bay. One helpful strategy for me was to get involved in the community and give back, put some of my energy into helping others. At times, giving back to the eating disorder community is wonderful, as one can fully grasp how those affected may feel, or what they might need. However, depending on the person, involvement in other types of community work might be desirable, if staying immersed in the eating disorder realm can become overwhelming. Either way, finding purpose and community is extremely helpful and fulfilling, and can speed up, or enhance, recovery. While I continue to describe myself as still "in recovery" to avoid definitive and rigid labels, I strongly believe that no matter the space one finds itself in, there is hope, and there is growth, and there is a path towards a compassionate and gentle life for those suffering from eating disorders.
Ana
One of my behaviors was excessive exercise, so out of fear for my safety, my parents didn’t allow me to be alone for months. I slept on a mattress on their floor and went to the bathroom with the door open. Additionally, my parents and I had been taught to “separate the eating disorder from myself” as a way to help me connect with my “healthy brain,” but in reality this only confused me and alienated me from myself. I felt a complete loss of identity and autonomy. Because of this, the initial stages of my recovery were very mentally and emotionally taxing. As I have grown in my recovery, I have realized that perfection truly is the enemy to my progress. I had to allow myself, and teach my parents to allow me to make mistakes.
Of course, I also had to do a lot of therapy work to help recognize and hold myself accountable when I had slips in recovery, and to prevent those same slips from happening again. However, once I realized that it was unrealistic to expect a recovery that myself or others could consider “perfect”, I found that I was much more motivated and successful at meeting my goals. I discovered that gradual progress was much more sustainable than sudden perfection, and that when I set a few, specific goals, I could achieve things that may otherwise have seemed unattainable. Almost three and a half years into my recovery, after several slips and relapses, I can say that I am in a strong and stable place. I cannot say for certain that I will never slip again. I know that life is unpredictable, and that reverting to eating disorder behaviors may be a comfortable coping option.
However, I am confident that I can recognize the eating disorder creeping in, and even more confident that I do not want to return to that place. I no longer want to reduce my identity to that of the eating disorder. Today, although I still attend regular nutrition and therapy appointments, I am able to focus mostly on my schoolwork and hobbies while recovery comes more naturally. I am studying bioinformatics on a pre-med track, and am committed to GW School of Medicine through an early admission program. I enjoy making music, painting and drawing, weightlifting, rock climbing, and skiing, and bake themed desserts with my friends for every holiday. As I reflect back on my recovery journey, I want to validate every moment of fear and despair one might feel during the early (or not so early) stages of recovery. It may seem impossible to ever focus your energy on anything else but this struggle.
But as healing starts taking place, and glimpses of "the other life" creep back in, allow yourself to enjoy them and remember they will become more frequent. Slowly, and with loving support, one can regain the ability to live a full life, to enjoy their real passions, and keep distress at bay. One helpful strategy for me was to get involved in the community and give back, put some of my energy into helping others. At times, giving back to the eating disorder community is wonderful, as one can fully grasp how those affected may feel, or what they might need. However, depending on the person, involvement in other types of community work might be desirable, if staying immersed in the eating disorder realm can become overwhelming. Either way, finding purpose and community is extremely helpful and fulfilling, and can speed up, or enhance, recovery. While I continue to describe myself as still "in recovery" to avoid definitive and rigid labels, I strongly believe that no matter the space one finds itself in, there is hope, and there is growth, and there is a path towards a compassionate and gentle life for those suffering from eating disorders.
Ana
Eating Disorders: My Personal Experience
By: Annie Kasler
What comes to mind when you think about fears? Heights, flying, spiders, rollercoasters…
Back in college, in the early 2000’s, my biggest fear was a grilled cheese sandwich. According to my journal that I kept during the first few months of treatment, a grilled cheese sandwich was my worst nightmare. I had an eating disorder, anorexia, all through high school. I was overweight as a kid and picked on constantly. (One kid in 5th grade asked me if my parents had to put a wide load sign on our car.)
Around 9th grade I decided to try to lose some weight. It started the typical way – exercise and different eating habits. But then it became an obsession. I didn’t control my eating, my eating controlled me. I tried a few therapists, but nothing stuck. And if I am being honest, I did not want to get better at that time. I did not want to gain weight.
When I went away to college, naturally it only got worse. I became thinner, only eating soft pretzels and frozen yogurt. It all came to a head the summer before my junior year of college. My brother-in-law stepped in to give me a much-needed wake-up call.
My eating disorder was now affecting his kids, my niece and nephew. It was either I agreed to get help, or I would not be able to see them anymore. The tough love worked, and I will be forever grateful. He saved my life. Shortly after, my Mom, Dad, and I were driving down to Pittsburgh so I could be assessed at Western Psych. Our goal was to do an inpatient program – to be admitted into their eating disorder floor.
I was down to 98 pounds during that visit. The assessment said I needed to be admitted. The insurance company thought otherwise. They would only cover the stay if I weighed 97 pounds or under. I vividly recall the woman from HR speaking on the phone with the insurance company. Sarcastically, she asked if I should run around the block a few times to lose the final pound they deemed necessary for me to be admitted. I don’t remember what she did – but whatever she did, it worked.
Within the next few weeks, my mom was driving me back down to Pittsburgh so I could officially be admitted into the eating disorder program. Going by my journal, this was on August 20, 2002.
Back in college, in the early 2000’s, my biggest fear was a grilled cheese sandwich. According to my journal that I kept during the first few months of treatment, a grilled cheese sandwich was my worst nightmare. I had an eating disorder, anorexia, all through high school. I was overweight as a kid and picked on constantly. (One kid in 5th grade asked me if my parents had to put a wide load sign on our car.)
Around 9th grade I decided to try to lose some weight. It started the typical way – exercise and different eating habits. But then it became an obsession. I didn’t control my eating, my eating controlled me. I tried a few therapists, but nothing stuck. And if I am being honest, I did not want to get better at that time. I did not want to gain weight.
When I went away to college, naturally it only got worse. I became thinner, only eating soft pretzels and frozen yogurt. It all came to a head the summer before my junior year of college. My brother-in-law stepped in to give me a much-needed wake-up call.
My eating disorder was now affecting his kids, my niece and nephew. It was either I agreed to get help, or I would not be able to see them anymore. The tough love worked, and I will be forever grateful. He saved my life. Shortly after, my Mom, Dad, and I were driving down to Pittsburgh so I could be assessed at Western Psych. Our goal was to do an inpatient program – to be admitted into their eating disorder floor.
I was down to 98 pounds during that visit. The assessment said I needed to be admitted. The insurance company thought otherwise. They would only cover the stay if I weighed 97 pounds or under. I vividly recall the woman from HR speaking on the phone with the insurance company. Sarcastically, she asked if I should run around the block a few times to lose the final pound they deemed necessary for me to be admitted. I don’t remember what she did – but whatever she did, it worked.
Within the next few weeks, my mom was driving me back down to Pittsburgh so I could officially be admitted into the eating disorder program. Going by my journal, this was on August 20, 2002.
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Our days were very structured – we had group meetings, meals and snacks were always at the same time, etc. Each patient had a different calories intake goal for the day. We worked with a nutritionist to help us achieve our goal and alleviate our fears around food. She made food less scary. My journal is filled with what I ate at each meal, including little notes like “Grilled Cheese – FEAR FOOD!” or “Grilled Cheese – it got a little easier.”
About once a week, the team of primary doctors at Western Psych would visit each patient’s room to discuss their treatment. During one of these visits, I conveyed to the team my genuine desire to recover. I will never forget the look of shock that ran over their faces. They told me they usually never heard that from the patients in this unit. The fear of weight gain was THAT immense. I stayed in the in-patient program until September 2, 2002. With one brief trip home on August 30th to visit my dad in the hospital. I was discharged on the 2nd, shortly after that visit home, because my dad passed away. After some time at home, my treatment team decided I would go back to Western Psych, but this time in the out-patient program. I stayed at a nearby family house and went to the outpatient unit each day, Monday to Friday. The days were pretty much the same structure as in-patient. |
While reading through my journal, one big thread (not counting the fear of grilled cheese) was trying to explain my eating disorder to my friends and family. It is incredibly difficult to articulate and likely even more challenging to comprehend. In one journal entry, I recounted my attempt to convey it to a vising friend:
“…but then we actually talked about my disorder. I tried to explain it in a way that he understood, but I know it’s hard for other people to understand. It was nice to know though, that he was at least trying. I talked to Jen’s dad (another patient) today about the disorder, too. And he said he couldn’t understand it either, but he was trying. He said Jen used to eat better than all the boys, but she never gained weight. So obviously, this disorder has much more to deal with than being thin. Although that is a big part of it. I am trying to think of a way to explain it. I guess the only thing I can think of now is that it would be like facing your biggest fear – like if a person that was afraid of heights was forced to bungee jump off a bridge, without knowing if the cord would break or not. Her dad was so nice, he kept saying that we’re all so beautiful and that in our minds, with all the pressures and expectations of life, that was not good enough for us in our minds. And he’s right, it becomes an obsession. I just hope that this obsession will stop!”
For those who have a loved one struggling with an eating disorder, my biggest piece of advice is to speak up. Having the conversation will undoubtedly be challenging, but at some point, something will resonate with them. The second piece of advice is to be there. I don’t know where I would be today without my support system, my village. My mom and dad, my sister and brother-in-law were at the core. My aunts and uncles who stepped in when needed. My friends who wrote, called, stopped by, and sent care packages. It all added up and meant something. I am here today because my brother-in-law spoke up. I am here today because my village was present.
“…but then we actually talked about my disorder. I tried to explain it in a way that he understood, but I know it’s hard for other people to understand. It was nice to know though, that he was at least trying. I talked to Jen’s dad (another patient) today about the disorder, too. And he said he couldn’t understand it either, but he was trying. He said Jen used to eat better than all the boys, but she never gained weight. So obviously, this disorder has much more to deal with than being thin. Although that is a big part of it. I am trying to think of a way to explain it. I guess the only thing I can think of now is that it would be like facing your biggest fear – like if a person that was afraid of heights was forced to bungee jump off a bridge, without knowing if the cord would break or not. Her dad was so nice, he kept saying that we’re all so beautiful and that in our minds, with all the pressures and expectations of life, that was not good enough for us in our minds. And he’s right, it becomes an obsession. I just hope that this obsession will stop!”
For those who have a loved one struggling with an eating disorder, my biggest piece of advice is to speak up. Having the conversation will undoubtedly be challenging, but at some point, something will resonate with them. The second piece of advice is to be there. I don’t know where I would be today without my support system, my village. My mom and dad, my sister and brother-in-law were at the core. My aunts and uncles who stepped in when needed. My friends who wrote, called, stopped by, and sent care packages. It all added up and meant something. I am here today because my brother-in-law spoke up. I am here today because my village was present.