Feburary 26th kicks off NEDAwareness week and in the spirit of eating disorder awareness and my recent personal decision to recommit myself more fully to recovery i am going to try my best to get into the rhythm of posting updates, thoughts and stories more frequently to my blog. If you’ve read my first few posts and are reading this now i want to thank you for patiently sticking by me as i learn how to use this blog as a tool to be vulnerable through my healing processes. If you’re reading my post for the first time I want to say thanks for being here and joining me as I tell my story. My hope is that by sharing mine with you, you’ll share yours with someone you love and trust. Vulnerability and community are powerful healing forces that i don’t believe are tapped into enough in our daily lives.
Since my last post the seasons have cycled. Relationships ended, grown and began. i went back to school, i quit one of my jobs, i took a few trips, i suffered and healed from both emotional and physical injuries. i feel like i’ve grown and learned a lot about myself and the world around me, but I also find myself waking up every morning to new challenges, misunderstandings and questions.
(CW: violent accident, suicide)
In July of 2016 I witnessed a horrific incident that took a toll on my emotional health and well being as well as my recovery. It hasn’t been until the past few months that I feel like I have finally found my footing again.
i was waiting for the train after a therapy session one day. It was hot and sunny outside and the train was running late as usual. i took a seat on the ground towards the end of the platform and pulled out my phone and began to mindlessly scroll through some social media platform. About 10 feet in front of me there was a middle aged woman pacing back and forth. The first thing i noticed about her was that she had a couple bracelets made out of the pony beads. i used to play with them as a kid all the time. i wondered if she had made them, or maybe she had children or nieces or nephews that made them for her. For some reason the image of her bracelets is one that has never left my mind. She was staring at the ground very fixedly as she paced and was mumbling to herself in a way that made me think she was upset about something. She suddenly looked up toward me and asked if i knew what time the next train was coming. i told her that i thought it was supposed to be her 10 minutes ago and then made a dry joke about the train being unpredictable. During the interaction she barely made eye contact and had turned away before i finished responding. i shrugged it off and returned to my mindless scrolling. A few moments later i looked up to see that the woman had ventured off the end of the platform and was wondering along the tracks. She remained out there for a moment staring in the direction the train would be coming. A few moments passed and she found her way back to the edge of the platform, still mumbling to herself. i was trying not to stare so i shifted my gaze down to the other end of the platform where a crowd of 10-15 people had gathered anxiously waiting for the train. i whipped my head back around as i heard the sound of a train whistle heading towards us. i stood up anticipating the train’s arrival only to realize that it was not a local and would be continue riding right past this station. It seemed as though this woman had not made the same realization. As the train approached the platform she quickly approached the tracks. i started towards the edge of the concrete screaming, “No ma’am no!” My screams were drowned out by the blaring horn of the train and before i could look away she had laid down in front of the train and took her life.
Still screaming i sprinted as fast as i could away from the scene until i collapsed in a grassy area behind the station where other witnesses had also retreated. An older woman helped me to my feet and didn’t say anything but just held me as we both sobbed. i don’t know how long we stood there, but the next thing i remember i was on the phone with my best friend, Tess, but i was still hyperventilating so she couldn’t understand me. Another girl walking toward the train station grabbed my arm and began telling me i was safe and helping me breath. i heard sirens in the background as i began to walk away. With Tess still on the phone i crossed paths with a dad and his two children in a stroller walking towards the station. It was only then i calmed down enough to warn him of what just happened so he didn’t walk that direction and was able to tell Tess what had happened.
About a block away from the station I found refuge on a concrete wall outside of a Starbucks. I had hung up with Tess and she was calling my cousin and my boyfriend at the time so they could wait for me at my apartment when i got there. i ordered an uber to go home and waited for it outside there. I was still crying, shaking and very visibly upset when a Starbucks employee came out and asked me if i was okay. She listened to what happened and left for a moment and came back with a free latte for me. i don’t know if caffeine was the best thing for my heart rate but i drank it anyways.
The rest of the day, weekend, and weeks following are kind of blur. i didn’t ride the train for a long time afterwards. The sounds whistles and sirens sent me into panic mode. i began having unwarranted flashbacks and my sleep was dabbled with nightmares. i still have questions that will always remain unanswered about who that woman was and why she wanted to die. i often found myself thinking of the conductor who was operating the train as well as all the other witnesses. i felt angry, sad, unsafe, out of control. As these thoughts and emotions began to overwhelm my psyche i began to cope in ways that were familiar and comfortable, but not healthy or recovery oriented. i was still meeting with an outpatient therapist regularly and by November talk of seeking a higher level of care became a topic of conversation in our sessions. i knew if i didn’t start to intentionally choosing recovery again, everyday, another trip to the hospital was in my future. i soon came to the realization that the therapist i was currently seeing wasn’t the right fit for me. i had seen him while in the hospital so when i was discharged it was easiest to continue working with him, even though he didn’t necessarily use approaches that best suited my personal recovery. If i was going to recover i was going to have to make some major changes.
Except for the month i spent in the hospital, November was quite possibility the hardest month of 2016. Like so many of the friends and make shift family that surrounded me, the political climate had a severe impact on my well-being and mental health. November quickly turned to December and i began to understand how i, how we, were to overcome this collective experience of hopelessness and defeat. Step one was self-care. Resistance without self-care is futile. In fact, it is impossible. If I wanted to be the activist my heart felt called to in this fight i needed to start by fighting for myself. Step two was community. I needed to surround myself with people who were going to encourage self-care, recovery and resistance. We were going to need each other more than ever in the coming weeks, months and years. Less than three days after the election i had chartered a bus and began organizing a group to go to the Women’s March on Washington. i had a big trip planned at the end of December. I was going to New York, then Pittsburgh for the holidays, followed by a 10 trip to California for both work and leisure. i had plans to continue to go to school in the spring. i had a job working with two amazing children that always had a way of keeping my hope in check.
i had too much to lose to not recommit myself to recovery, and so i did.
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^a PSA for the current administration and my eating disorder^ |
