To keep the story short, residential was hard. It was the hardest experience of my life. I was put on movement restriction twice (both for a week at a time), forced to eat grey eggs and take shots of Italian dressing, I had a roommate who told me I didn't look like I had an eating disorder and I must have put on a lot of weight, my meal plan was one of the highest possible, and all along I was having to face my biggest fears. I was gaining weight and emotions that had been numbed for so long were surfacing quite frequently. Every day was an emotional roller coaster. If you want to hear some crazy stories, feel free to contact me but to spare making you read a novel, I've decided to capture my transformational journey with some pieces I wrote in my journals throughout the process.

August 1 (Day One): "I still don't feel like I belong here, in residential. Yes, I need treatment and to rewire my association and relationship with food but I don't feel like I'm this bad off. I'm certainly not the thinnest. I told Mom and Dad I'm going to get an award for completing treatment and the program in record time. I do not want to be here doing this. I want to be at home, with a dietician approved meal plan, in the comfort of my own bed and with my family. Not to mention it's literally freezing everywhere inside here. It's terrible. You'd think for an eating disorder center they'd know better because we're all already cold. I'm really stressing about weigh-ins tomorrow because I'm sure from today alone I've gained a ton of weight. But isn't that the fucking point? Gain weight to get the fuck out of here... It just feels like an impossible fight right now... I'm so afraid that while here I'll weight restore just to go home and start restricting again. I'm scared I'll never be comfortable in my body again. But most of all, I'm scared I'll lose my ability to restrict and become some insane vacuum who can't stop eating... I'm pretty sure going back to read this, my train of thought is everywhere but welcome to the voices in my head."

August 2: "I don't feel sick enough to be here. I see the bones in my shoulders and chest as an accomplishment that I don't want to lose. I don't look too sickly. I feel fine. They're going to make me put on so much weight here. I could have stayed home, gained a bit back, and felt physically fine. I could have restricted but not as much and been a totally functional human being, no one would have had to know and I could have gone on successfully, normally, and happily. I need help but I don't want to gain weight. I want to make my salad and eat it too... I'd say cut my cake and eat it too but that feels ironic right now."

NOTE: As you can see, the voice of the eating disorder was very strong during my first couple weeks. I was torn between what Olivia wanted and what Ed wanted me to do. All of the above thoughts came from a very sick, very much in her disorder Olivia. Thankfully, that is not where I am today.

August 26: "It's starting to sink in how maybe bad off I actually was in my eating disorder. Friends I've made are beginning to come and go. As I see people making progress, it hits home because I'm lagging behind. People I came in with are leaving soon. This recovery is beginning to feel like two steps forward and three steps back. I want so badly to be home but at the same time, I'm terrified to leave. Sure, the rules and the reason I'm here sucks but I've been able to work on myself and focus on my emotions without the demands of life. I know my time will come eventually but will I be ready?"

August 30: "The disorder, even now, is pushing me to isolate and suffer in silence; telling me I don't deserve the love and support even while I know I'd give the other girls here unconditional love and support. I don't want to be caught in this battle with Ed any longer. Tomorrow I'm going to trust the process; I'm going to try and release control. I'm going to make a change. Something's been holding me back and I'm tired of letting myself fall back on the notion that 'I can change tomorrow, one more day won't hurt you.' The rest of my life has to start somewhere and sometime."

September 12: "It's 9:08 am on September 12 and I just said in the mirror 'I like how my body looks today' even at ___ pounds heavier. I actually like my body at this moment... It's 9:16 pm, twelve hours later, and I've had the best day I've had in months. I was truly comfortable in my body and successful in reappraising thoughts. I've found intrinsic motivation: I'm excited about all the possibilities life holds for me when I'm healthy. I spent the night stargazing if you can call it that. The Florida sky is so polluted by the lights of life... I want to be on Rough Ridge where you can see for miles... I miss my Boone life."

September 24 (Discharge Day): "It's a strange, surreal feeling right now, to be leaving. I'm super excited but at the same time terrified. Terrified feels like the one word I would use to sum up this experience. I had to throw away two pairs of my favorite jeans last night because they don't fit. I used to be able to slip them on without unbuttoning because they were so big. My reappraisals for this are 1) I have a butt again, and 2) I can buy clothes that actually fit and continue feeling comfortable in my body. I woke up feeling extremely confident and happy about everything."

While this is a short account of my progress (I filled up two and a half journals during this time), I hope it brings light to the darkness I came from, the tortured thoughts that controlled my life.