This is where the healing begins

Well I suppose I should introduce myself.
From the title of my blog, you can already tell that I'm in recovery. "Recovery from what?", you ask. An eating disorder. More specifically, anorexia. If you don't know anything about anorexia or eating disorders, I suggest you visit www.something-fishy.org and play around. It's a pretty reliable source.
Anyway, my eating disorder started when I was 15 years old. December 23, 2003 to be exact. I started seeing a therapist named Andy twice a week for a few months but then was put in a psychiatric facility called Four Winds in March. I was there for a month where I regained weight and did some BS therapy. The eating disorder was so new that I didn't really delve into any REAL issues that were brewing in my heart. They mainly focused on my weight.
Right after Four Winds, I started to relapse quickly and the following July I went to Renfrew in Philadelphia. Again, there for a month. Came out, relapsed, blah blah blah, went back to Renfrew in January of 2005. Alot of in-and-out of hospitals as far as dehydration and electrolite imbalance.
The next 2 years (2005-2007) were a blur. I have been put on just about every psychiatric medication under the sun and during those 2 years I was on Prozac. I had such adverse reactions to it, but my psychiatrist kept increasing my dose. Finally, after cutting, and overdosing for nearly 2 years, I attempted suicide in May of 2007. My mother found me in my garage with a rope around my neck. I was put back in Four Winds for a week, where my doctor took me off of Prozac. (Don't get me wrong, NOTHING against Prozac. It just did not work for me).
I graduated high school in June of 2007 and left for art school in August of 2007. Things were great but my anorexia loved the freedom from parents and rules and structure. I soon relapsed and in December of 2007 had to withdraw from school. I was put in a medical hospital where I was tube-fed for 2 weeks. Same thing happened in August of 2008 and then again in December of 2008.
During this time, I was able to stay in a local community college. Thank God. At least it gave me some sense of purpose.
In May of 2009 I had to have a lymph node biopsy because I had swollen lymph nodes all over my body. I was also having all kinds of digestive problems, easy bruising and other weird things. I had to see a hemotologist and no one knew what was up.
The most life changing day of my entire life was July 2, 2009. I weighed myself for the first day in probably 7 months. I knew I had lost weight. But the amount literally scared me to the floor. At 20 years old, I weighed as much as a 9 year old girl. I knew something, anything, had to be done. But I was determined not to go into a hospital. I wanted to do it myself. I proposed the idea to my parents. That night, I went to my local emergency care center, where I agreed to get blood drawn, my weight taken and etc. I also agreed to see my primary care doctor (Dr. Flanagan) once a week to get weights and vitals done, my therapist (Joe) twice a week for therapy and my dietician (Judy) once a week. Basically, the next year of my life revolved around doctors appointments and intense therapy.
Dr. Flanagan gave me a handicap tag for the car so I wouldn't have to walk and burn extra calories. My parents bought a wheelchair for me and I would have to be wheeled around if we were planning on walking more than a few feet. Yes, I stayed in school. But I was only taking 2 classes. I had to stop driving because it was unsafe, so my mother would bring me to class. I had to literally carry around a cushion because there was no fat in my butt so I could not sit on any hard surface. (People probably thought I had hemroids).
It was a year of hell. Straight hell. I'll get into more details later, but all you need to know for now is how MISERABLE I was. I did not see friends. I did not see family. I did not see myself. When I did, I cried. In fact, I cried every day for over a year. I was depressed, sad, miserable. My mind and body were so malnourished that I was not thinking rationally at all. I was confused all the time, I was forgetful, I was miserable. Miserable.
In December of 2009, I was close to attempting suicide again. I had a rope around my neck and closed myself in my closet. My last cry for help saved my life. I cried out to God (who I had previously been skeptical of), "DEAR GOD, IF YOU ARE REAL....SEND HELP". My mother barged in and stopped me.
In May of 2010, after nearly a year of complete destruction, hopelessness and misery, I started researching treatment centers. I narrowed it down to 2 centers and after 2 months of "back and forth" thinking whether I wanted to go into treatment or not, I chose LIFE, not death. I contacted and confirmed admission to Canopy Cove ( www.canopycove.com ) and on July 7, 2010,  I began the first day of the rest of my life...