Strength in Numbers

There is no reason for me to not be writing. Since I have gotten “home” (which is in “” because although its where I came from its a very new home) I would like to chalk up the silence to just being very busy, but that would not be completely true. I am also compelled to say that everything is just normal, the average day-to-day, blah blah etcetera…but this is also not the case.

One of the many "Recovery Rabbits"

Sure I am busy, working 6 days a week for the time being and moving/unpacking/getting settled in the few hours I am not at the tattoo shop, but I’m really not too busy to write when it comes down to it. In my chosen “down” time I have been furiously stitching my sock rabbits for the annual Christmas donation to UVA Hospital’s Pediatric Ward but I am pretty sure I will not have quite as many as last year. Regardless of amount its a good thing though – on many fronts.  More on the Rabbit front in the future.

Being back at work has been nice. Being able to tattoo without my muscle-lacking wrist getting sore, being able to stay awake throughout the day, being able to actually think about and focus on the art and not the bottomless pit of hunger that occupied so much of me for so long. I have cause to my actions now. There is logical reason behind what I do and, most of all, I feel sane in my decisions. I may have gained some weight but its a small price to pay for happiness and sanity. This process shows more every day that there is strength in numbers in more ways than one.

Speaking of which I also have a roommate sharing the lovely new apartment with me. Benji moved cross-country about 3 weeks ago from his home in Las Vegas for a new start. He drove for 3 days with his Dad, got a job within the first week of being here, and has been adjusting to the change in lifestyle nicely. We live well together. The 2 bedroom apartment fits us perfectly and, although we don’t rely on each other for recovery, we definitely help each other out.

Benji and I at the 9-11 "postcard" memorial on Staten Island

This shift in my life that has taken place over the last 5 months, from being in NY to the major differences in my circumstances upon the return home, would have been indescribably more difficult without Benji making his own recovery-induced changes. Every day the sense of how lucky I am that he included me in this part of his life is renewed. Sure, we both still have our own hang-ups and trials, but having a friend that knows exactly what you are going through is beyond amazing.  This is just another way that recovery has proven again that there is strength in numbers.

 

The common grace

Its official – I am no longer “the new girl”. We hadn’t been graced with anyone a few days ago when the speculation started but, yesterday, the prophecy was fulfilled. Amy arrived flanked on either side by her forlorned but determined-looking parents and trailed by a sister close in age who appeared to be on the verge of tears the entire time they were here.

At 17 Amy is not only the newest but the youngest as well. Although understandable timid for being in a new place such as this her hesitance seems to melt away as, by dinner, its apparent that she will fit right in.

Over a meal of chicken, baked potato and veggies as the main plate, among our individual additions we learn that her ease into this environment is because, to Amy, it’s not new. having been transferred from a different inpatient program at a children’s hospital in another part of New York she tells us of her dreams to become a doctor and about the substantial amount of high school she has already missed due to this illness. She’ll be entering her senior year in a few months and, this one, she’d like to be there for a majority of.

Her large doe-like eyes blink behind a pair of glasses that suit her so well she might look incomplete without them. There is an ever so slight change in the wind with her presence here. Language is censored just a bit more, shows that may offend, like “Sex In The City” which she has already confessed as being “too much”, are watched in the more secluded back TV room. We are not trying to treat her like a child by any means and its clear that she doesn’t want to be seen that way. It’s just that the need to be accommodating to others comes ridiculously naturally to so many people with eating disorders. Sometimes if I don’t keep my own urge to make everyone around me as comfortable as possible in check it can become overbearing.

I have to say though that, for me, fitting in around here is not hard. many of us share a lot of personality traits and, although I’m not sure if its coincidence or something to do with eating disorders affecting certain kinds of people, it has made adjustment that much easier.

Stitch by stitch

That nagging feeling of having forgotten something rang true when my blood sugar level dropped right before dinner on the first night. I guess I have gotten so used to my schedule at home and eating at the right times in order to keep it in check that I forgot to let anyone know that hypoglycemia is an issue for me. The nurses were less than thrilled.

Most of the other girls here are from various places in New York and a majority of them, like me, have been to treatment before. A few have actually been here before. Our ages range from 18-35 with a pretty good balance on either end of the spectrum. Things will change thought since discharge somewhere within a months time is imminent for more than half of them.

The hospital itself, within the little wing we call home, is equipped with 2 rec/day rooms, 2 TVs with a moderate array of channels, 2 computers with both internet access and printing ability, an art room with slightly used but abundant supplies, several “interview” rooms, a dining room harboring a tiny kitchen, the required amount of bedrooms, and a large cabinet stuffed full of games and puzzles. There is a descent amount of freedom and personal responsibility placed on each of us and I, at least, am finding that the lack of constant supervision works to my advantage. Somehow it makes me more proud of my decisions and actions than the parallel of Remuda Ranch and its naughty-child-strictness. I’m slowly growing comfortable, fitting in stitch by stitch, and finding that it’s a great feeling.