Barely Alive in 2005

I was in bad shape in the fall of 2005. My weight was low and I was barely eating. I finally called the hospital in College Town and asked to be admitted to the eating disorder program. I was told there was a waiting list and it could be several weeks. Perhaps if my heart had been beating erratically or I'd had some other acute condition I could have been admitted to the general hospital but I was “okay” other than having a very low weight. 

I could have tried to find another eating disorder program but I'd been to the program in College Town before so that's where I wanted to go again. So, I waited. And waited. And waited. I knew it was truly possible I might die but I waited nonetheless. I even continued working.

I finally received a call one day and was told a bed was available for me. My parents drove me to College Town. I was angry with myself. I'm an intelligent man. I am too intelligent to need hospitalization and have my entire life disrupted just because I can't do something as fucking easy as eat.

I'd been fantasizing about food. I'd even been dreaming about food. I wanted meat loaf. I'm not sure why. Comfort food? If I was hungry, why didn't I just eat? Easier said than done.

While I sat there in my hospital gown and had my intake interview with a nurse she pushed a tray of food in front of me and I'll be damned if it wasn't meat loaf. I think she might have been concerned that I'd refuse to eat but I wasn't going to turn this meatloaf down. Serendipity? Happy accident? Strange coincidence?   

Time on the psychiatric unit went quickly. I'd been through this process before. Even though I can look ghastly at a low weight, I usually restore (gain) weight fairly quickly in a hospital setting. I'm not one of those people who loses two pounds from fidgeting in a chair. So, it wasn't too long before the doctors were talking about discharging me. Discharge came with a catch. I'd have to attend the partial hospital (day treatment) program until I restored some more weight.

 

I'd been in Partial Hospital before years earlier. During that period of time I was still able to board in the hospital. They had a floor for people to board on in an area of the hospital called Boyd Tower. Sounds fancy, huh? But, no. I just lived in a hospital room. But, I could come and go as I pleased as if I were in a motel for instance. And, I received meal vouchers I could use in the hospital cafeteria which was convenient.

But, this time around was different. There was no longer a place to board in Boyd Tower. I had to stay in a motel if I was going to attend Partial. A social worker made some arrangements for me to stay at a Days Inn on "the strip" in an area right next to College Town and near the hospital.

I wasn't too happy about living in a motel. I'd have to ride in a shuttle bus back and forth. I'd have to eat my evening and weekend meals in my room or at restaurants on the strip. I didn't have the convenience of just walking down to the cafeteria with a voucher. Sometimes I did have the shuttle bus take me to the hospital on evenings or weekends just so I could eat in the cafeteria. I realize that's probably hard to understand but I liked the familiarity of the hospital cafeteria.

Partial didn't go well for me. I wasn't comfortable at the Days Inn. I was surrounded by restaurants on the strip but couldn't bring myself to eat. Food, food everywhere, but not a bite to eat. That's what I was thinking.

I sort of borrowed that from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner". The mariner is stuck with his shipmates on a becalmed ship surrounded by seawater and yet they are dying of thirst. The ship has depleted its stores of freshwater and though surrounded by water the sailors cannot drink the salt water. Can you imagine the agony of being surrounded by water and not being able to drink it because you know it would only make you thirstier?

 

"Water, water, everywhere, but not a drop to drink."

 

While living at that motel on the strip I was surrounded by burgers, tacos, and pizza. I had Chinese and Italian food within walking distance. I could have went to the mall nearby and ate in the food court. I could have bought some food at Walgreens across the street.

 

 

I couldn't do it!

By the way, I'd fallen in love with a petite blond gymnast and dancer named Elsa while on the eating disorders unit. She was still in the hospital so I was missing her too. I saw her on weekends a couple of times because I was allowed to go to the weekend activity at the hospital while in Partial.


Elsa was unable to come to the phone and talk to me sometimes which concerned me. I found out much later she'd gotten in some trouble for harboring caffeine pills in her room. She was placed on one-on-one observation I think and not allowed calls.


On the first Friday night I spent at the motel, I walked across the street to Walgreens. It was strange walking around this discount store in an unfamiliar city. But, I needed some laundry detergent so there I was. I remember Tom Petty singing over the sound system and wondering how I was ever going to get through this shit.

 

When the mariner and his shipmates are stuck on a becalmed ship, they are probably stuck in the doldrums. The doldrums refers to a zone near the equator where sailing ships sometimes get stuck on windless waters. You may also know that the doldrums can describe a period of low spirits and lack of energy. It can also be described as a state or period of inactivity, stagnation, or depression.

I had been living in the doldrums myself it would seem. I'd been going through the motions of life. I worked some and kept to myself in my spare time except for visiting my parents and the library. I'd never established any sort of career after graduating college. I didn't date because I felt too impaired to even imagine being in a relationship. I certainly had low spirits and a lack of energy.

And, now that I was in so-called treatment I really felt no better. I probably would have told you I felt even worse than before coming to treatment. I was still stuck in what seemed an incapacitated state. I was still in the doldrums.

I was eventually asked to return to the inpatient unit. The doctors were nice and told me it wasn't my fault. They'd discharged me too soon they said. Upon returning to the unit I saw Elsa again. I think she gave me a hug just to let me know she wasn't disappointed in me and was still there to support me. Then soon after she was discharged and returned to Kansas. She said she'd call me when she got home. She didn't call that night. Or, the next. Days and weeks passed. I finally accepted that she was never going to call.

I got discharged again from inpatient and stayed in a different motel while attempting Partial Hospital again. It didn't go any better the second time around although I did eat at a couple of restaurants. I had dinner one evening with two other Partial patients, Sarah and Rebecca, at Old Chicago. I only ate about half of my burger and fries. Then we went to Memoirs of a Geisha. I think I went out with Sarah alone once as well. I think we may have went to the movie Munich and then went to the Peking Buffet for dinner afterward. I was overwhelmed with the buffet and didn't eat too much. Even some help from my peers couldn't save me.

I went back to inpatient again. They finally discharged me and sent me to a care facility. I finally got through Partial Hospital because the care facility made sure I ate in the evenings and on weekends.

While at the care facility, I finally made contact with Elsa. She said she loved me but just couldn't bring herself to call. We both had too many problems to deal with. I guess we didn't want to get hurt or hurt anyone if possible.

I never did return home. I stayed in College Town and eventually got an apartment. My dad and sister cleaned out my old apartment. I felt guilty and ashamed. Thankfully I have a supportive family.

In "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" the mariner shoots an albatross and the ship seems to encounter bad luck after that. The sailors blame their misfortunes on the mariner's killing of the sea bird. They make the mariner wear the dead albatross on a rope hung around his neck as a punishment or a reminder of his ill deed.

Has this so-called eating disorder been an albatross about my neck? Sure, it's been a burden being depressed, anxious, and having an inability to eat normally.

I suppose at times I've wondered if I'm being punished by God for wrongdoings in my younger days. Maybe I wasn't kind enough to people. Maybe I wasn't compassionate enough. Maybe I wasn't tolerant. Maybe I was judgmental. Maybe I was mean. Maybe I was arrogant. Maybe a higher power like God wanted to humble me. I guess I don't really believe that although I have been humbled. It's kind of funny that I wondered how some of my classmates were going to survive in the real world after high school. It turns out it's me who can't seem to handle being a grown-up.

The mariner learned to love all men and beasts. He learned to love all things both great and small. He learned to appreciate the mundane as well as the sublime. I've gotten to know people from many walks of life and have learned to appreciate the uniqueness of all. I don't always like everyone I meet. But, I am tolerant of people and realize that everyone has their burdens in life. I am grateful for the good people who have passed through my life and continue to be a part of my life. I have learned to appreciate the simple things in life. I've learned to be thankful. I realize if you have your health and the love of family and friends you have a lot.

While living in the care facility, I went out one evening with a friend and a couple she knew. We went to a Japanese restaurant and I had sushi for the first time. Another friend took me to a Mexican place famous for its burritos made with fresh tortillas. Two girls took me out for breakfast once at a local diner. I went to Panera Bread several times with a female friend after moving into my apartment. She even got me to go out for frozen yogurt a few times.

You might be thinking I just need a girlfriend to make sure I eat. But, it wouldn't matter. I've turned down dinner invitations with pretty girls more than once because I just couldn't handle eating out and varying my daily routine.

I do sort of laugh to myself sometimes and think about how unfortunate it is that I'm so messed up when it comes to eating. I live in an area now with a wide array of restaurants. So many options. Seemingly, I would never get bored with the selection available. And, yet I've eaten out hardly anywhere. It's hard to relate to people talking about restaurants and the joy of eating out. I remember that joy from my youngers days before I became ill. But, I can't fathom being normal now and enjoying eating out. I've thought about eating at a bunch of places and then writing a book about it. But, no one would buy the book. Eating at restaurants is hardly noteworthy. People do it all the time.

Romantic period poets like Coleridge found merit in a quality known as liminality. They valued liminal spaces. The word “liminal” comes from the Latin root, limen, which means “threshold.” The liminal space is the “crossing over” space – a space where you have left something behind, yet you are not yet fully in something else. It's a transition space.

A liminal space is the time between the 'what was' and the 'next. ' It is a place of transition, a season of waiting, and not knowing. Liminal space is where all transformation takes place, if we learn to wait and let it form us.

You may know where you are, physically and geographically, but not know where you are as a person. Being on a psychiatric unit can be eerie. Finding oneself living in a care facility miles from home can seem surreal. I've had times where I've been healthier. I've even eaten out like a normal person and went on dates but it still never quite felt normal. Maybe I never feel quite like I'm in the right place. Maybe I'm healthier at times but I know I've never really left the eating disorder behind. It's a strange state to be in.

I don't like to feel that I'm anxiously floating in the in-between. Sure, I like the idea of transforming into a healthy, happier person. But, transitions are hard for me. I like my comfort zone. I don't like change. I don't like ambiguity. Yet, we all go through transitions. The concept of "coming of age" is a classic example of a liminal space. We are not quite an adult but no longer a child.

I hate transitions and yet I know I'll have to endure more of them in my lifetime. I wish I could count on certainty but have to accept that I can't.

The mariner loses all of his shipmates to Death but somehow he makes it home again with a little supernatural help. He feels the need to tell the story of his misdeed of shooting the albatross to relieve his pain but also to relate to others how it taught him to be a better person appreciative of all life.

I wasn't sure I'd survive 2005 and ever be normal again. But, with some help I made it back to shore and have had some periods that are about as close to normal as I will ever get. Like the mariner, I like to think that I have become more appreciative of life. And, like the mariner I seem to keep telling my story to those that care to listen.