It’s fine. I’m fine. (pt. 1)

As you may remember, it was April 2021 and I had just moved back to NY after the spring semester in St. Pete. I moved back in with my mom and her husband. I was in a different place geographically, but my mental state was the same.

Now, let me back up a minute. I had noticed at the start of spring semester that I was out of breath when I would bike up the only type of hill they have in FL… bridges. I equated it to the fact that I was not used to hills and so I was out of shape for going up them.

Okay, back to NY. I began my ‘cycle’. Since I didn’t have the beach, I just separated the bike ride and walk into different activities.

From one of the walks I took that spring in NY

Because I thought I was out of breath from the lack of exposure to hilly terrain, I gave myself a few weeks after returning to NY to “adjust” back to that kind of topography. Little did I know this was far from the issue.

Present day note: My memories for much of the next couple years that follow are somewhat limited, so it has and may continue to take me a bit longer to write this part of my journey. I get frustrated because I want to give you all a clear, honest picture of the journey and definitely am not going to include “guessed” details.

I shared this frustration with my therapist the other day and after hearing me out, she agreed that I definitely blocked some things out; but she also candidly reminded me that my body was not nourished enough for my brain to function properly…

With that said I definitely still have clear memories. I do remember my mom asking me several times if I would go and see someone (aka get help). She said she was concerned about me and pointed out things like: my breathing problems, the abundance of blond hairs all over my skin, and my skin color looking a bit yellow.

As is a common characteristic with ED’s, I defensively denied the symptoms saying ‘I’m fine’. I got particularly defensive about the breathing remarks because I was equally frustrated. The struggle to breathe made keeping up with the exercise ‘routine’ so much harder.

I can’t remember what the final straw was, all I remember is that I agreed to go to with my mom to a clinic an hour and a half away.

That morning of May 21 was filled with defensiveness, anxiety, breaking down, and near fainting.

A glimpse of the next chapter: I discovered through lab testing that I had hit rock bottom and needed to change if I wanted to survive… and according to the dietician I met with that morning, it meant no exercise and eating (what sounded to me) like a pig.

~another day, another slay~

Lydia