Five years ago, I fell into the illness/sickness.
As we could hear often, everything started from a simple will to lose a just little of weight (which was, by the way, not necessary at all…).
Then, my life quickly started to become a real nightmare.
Once I had been diagnosed “anorexia nervosa”, I tried to cope by myself. But the vicious circle was already there, restrictions and hyperactivity were already entrenched…
I’ve been attended by dieticians who gave me food programs. I followed it for some weeks but then released all my efforts when I had seen the number on the scale that was increasing, despite all my will to make it out.
As time went by, I felt more and more tired.
Ironically, I felt very well physically, but mentally I couldn’t anymore. I spent my entire days thinking about food, doing exercise and thinking about food again, to know what I could eat or not, in order not to exceed a specific caloric intake.
I became bad, sourness, bad-tempered and I felt really bad in my skin.
My decision was taken, I couldn’t cope by myself, I wanted to be taken in care and go to the hospital. I knew that would be hard, but it was actually the only solution.
I finished my Master in Human Resources strongly exhausted, but I didn’t want to set my studies aside.
On July, the 7th 2015 I entered in the hospital. I felt some apprehension and relief. It was finally time for me to let go, to work hard every day while going outside of my comfort zone. I was finally taken in care.
Many of you don’t want the hospitalization. For my part, I did it on a voluntary basis, but I wouldn’t hide the fact that I strongly feared this time. Boredom, continued efforts…Very hard thing were waiting for me.
Today, I’m sharing with you this experience:
The hospital is not as horrible as what is said. Of course, you need to go in it with the will to make it out…
Each day, I had activities to occupy myself, focused on the illness (sophrology, daily meeting with my psychologist, dietician…) as well as daily activities such as drawing, board games…
Some days were very long since sometimes I was a little bored, but I was pleasantly surprised compared to what I thought.
I had meal trays that were composed the same way for all the patients: starter, main course, cheese, bread and dessert.
I took my meals alone in my room. If I decided not to eat, it was entirely my problem. But I didn’t come to the hospital to repeat what I did at home, so every day I challenged myself to take the whole meal.
Obviously on the first days it was very hard to eat the whole meal, since my stomach had been shrunk a lot due to my limitations. Then after three weeks of my stay I could eat the whole meal without any problems.
Thanks to this hospital’s stay, I understood that food doesn’t put on weight, but is a real need. Food is necessary to live.
At home, if I ate starches, I didn’t eat bread. If my lunch was consistent, I restricted myself at dinner.
At the hospital, this control was no longer possible. It had been difficult on the beginning but as days passed, the efforts looked less hard.
I still keep in mind the first Sunday morning, day of pastry. We all had a croissant. I ate it while crying, I thought about it the entire day. But I did it.
On the second Sunday, I took this croissant with the guilt feeling and on the third Sunday I enjoyed it. Why? Because I already did it two times before and I had realized nothing had changed on the next day.
This experience amazingly opened my eyes. To eat everything in good quantity, without any sport, doesn’t put on weight. It’s just vital.
Please know one thing, the hospital saved my life and if I hadn’t taken this decision…I think I couldn’t be there to write these words.
Hospitalization is hard but it could enable you to open your eyes on a lot of things.
Don’t give up, no matters how long it would take.
Be proud of your fight.
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