Yesterday I came across some writing I did in 2015. I was in the thick of my relapse at that time. When I read it I was immediately transported back to that place in time. I remember it all so clearly; being so weak that I showered once every 7 days if I was lucky. Showering would be so deeply exhausting for my body, and I didn’t have the energy to do it more often, even with a shower chair and my mom washing my hair. Sometimes my mom would just have to bathe me in my bed because that’s the best I could manage. I remember being hooked up to IV’s all the damn time, and hearing them beep and flash all hours of the night. That sound of the IV pump is one that will never ever leave my brain. I remember days that turned into weeks where I couldn’t stomach any food and I survived on homemade shakes that were barely 400 calories, praying I wouldn’t find myself in the hospital for a feeding tube. I remember my nervous system being so overwhelmed that I would shake like a leaf for days on end while my heart raced at 120 mph lying flat. I remember pain so intense I would try to scream but nothing would come out because I was too weak to make sounds after days of the pain ravaging my body. I remember the tears of pure desperation, thinking that I couldn’t possibly take any more. And yet, somehow I did. I took 5 more years of that and more in an unrelenting fashion.
5/21/2021
5/21/2021
5/21/2021
Yesterday I came across some writing I did in 2015. I was in the thick of my relapse at that time. When I read it I was immediately transported back to that place in time. I remember it all so clearly; being so weak that I showered once every 7 days if I was lucky. Showering would be so deeply exhausting for my body, and I didn’t have the energy to do it more often, even with a shower chair and my mom washing my hair. Sometimes my mom would just have to bathe me in my bed because that’s the best I could manage. I remember being hooked up to IV’s all the damn time, and hearing them beep and flash all hours of the night. That sound of the IV pump is one that will never ever leave my brain. I remember days that turned into weeks where I couldn’t stomach any food and I survived on homemade shakes that were barely 400 calories, praying I wouldn’t find myself in the hospital for a feeding tube. I remember my nervous system being so overwhelmed that I would shake like a leaf for days on end while my heart raced at 120 mph lying flat. I remember pain so intense I would try to scream but nothing would come out because I was too weak to make sounds after days of the pain ravaging my body. I remember the tears of pure desperation, thinking that I couldn’t possibly take any more. And yet, somehow I did. I took 5 more years of that and more in an unrelenting fashion.