I asked Benji how he viewed what it would realistically be like when he got home after leaving here. It was a sort of loaded question that provoked a lengthy pause as precursor to its stumbling answer. I knew it would be though, and I had been hesitant to ask in the first place, but did anyway. Call it a test for response. That question is tricky to answer on a couple different levels, one being whether or not to lie.
Everybody is scared of returning to the daily life that helped contribute to this situation in the first place. Many people who leave here are not so sure that going home is the best idea. We try to act positive but, in the face of that question, do we lie and say everything will be fine? And, if we do say it will be fine, are we doing it so others can hear it and keep up their own hope for the future or so we can keep doubt out of our own minds? Then again, if we tell the truth it might sound something like Benji’s answer. His may seem disheartening, but its honest and, although I hope hes not lessening his chances by admitting it, I can respect his honesty.
After some silent moments of consideration Benji looks at me and speaks. He says that here, on the unit, its safe. We know things will be okay here because they have a plan and ensure that we are on the right track. At home we are left to our own devices. No one accounts for our decisions and our recovery is in our own two hands. We have the knowledge, the skills, and the boost up to get us going when we leave but only time will tell if we have the strength to keep fighting this battle that is far from over.
Benji admits his fear of going back to that which he knows so well. He is afraid that, amidst everything else, the eating disorder will fit right in again. Its such a very common fear among us and yet is not often spoken aloud. Maybe its denial. Maybe its that no one wants to potentially jinx their chances. Whatever the reason though, if its seen in the right light, that fear is power and the recognition of it gives us that much more of a fighting chance against it. No one ever defeated an enemy by pretending their opponent didn’t exist.
Benji says that he truly cannot imagine going home and dealing with his old life without his eating disorder again. He has been anorexic since the age of 15 and it has stolen some of the most important years of his life from him, including the transition from teenager into adulthood. He has no idea what his life would be like without so much of his time revolving around the eating disorder and its complications. I try and reassure him that there is more out there in the world but that doesn’t make the letting go of a constant companion any easier.
However, the next thing out of his mouth turns some tables. He says that he also can’t imagine going home and winding up so deeply in the depths of the disorder again. That right there is a hell of a thing to say. Both statements reflect reality and reek of honesty as they clarify a hope that is refusing to leave. I suggest to Benji that maybe he just can’t imagine life without it because the truth is that we will never really be recovered…we will always be in recovery. For myself, at least, I know that I can retain my positivity of being able to stay on the right track but I can’t let the notion that I am done fighting blur my vision. If I stop remembering the hold the eating disorder had on me, at any point in the future, that will give it the best opportunity to sneak right back in. Weather its 2 months from now or 10 years I can’t ever forget about the havoc it once wreaked on my body and mind. I can only hope that thats what not being able to imagine life without it means and I wish the best for each person soon to be on their way home.
Sockhop 