Did You Have a Bowel Movement Yesterday? | The Odyssey Online
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Did You Have a Bowel Movement Yesterday?

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Did You Have a Bowel Movement Yesterday?

TMI, I know. However, I need to convey the severity of how drastically different residential treatment was to my life before. Living a life of isolation and privacy wasn't an option anymore. We were under 24/7 supervision, with weights and vitals daily at 5:30 am where an older nurse with a voice like Roz from Monsters Inc. would ask if we had a bowel movement yesterday. When we ate, we had to turn pockets inside out, lift our plates, and wipe under the tables to make sure we weren't hiding food. Nurses checked our rooms every hour during the nights to make sure we were in bed. As uncomfortable as it all was, we found humor in the discomfort. This is a poem I wrote my second week (I found a lot of freedom in writing):

They say the days go by slow but the weeks go by fast, and it gets easier each meal you get past. We take our meds with Miralax and celebrate every poo, while sarcastically saying "Welcome to Renfrew." Accused of exercising or sitting in the sun to lose weight? Accept your red badge with honor and welcome to the Day Room Club mate. Have you ever had to count while you pee? Or shake out your napkin just so they can see? Weights and vitals come early at 5:30 in the morning, and sometimes they change your menu choices without warning. "Trust the process and lean into your emotions" they chirp. But how can I when all I can think about is how much this Boost makes me burp. We're like grazing cattle, we eat and lay down, and when our french toast is cold we just have to sit there and frown. They watch us eat like we're animals in a zoo, and once again I emphasize we have to count in the loo. Nevertheless the time so far has been well spent, despite having broken down one or two more times than I meant. Recovery is calling and I'm on my way, to freedom and happiness and no more Ed to obey.


Moving on, residential took my active lifestyle that I love (hiking, biking, running, kayaking, nature, the sunshine, fresh air, yoga, etc.) and stripped that away very quickly. We were in groups for the majority of the day, except for meals and two one-hour breaks. During those breaks we were to be sitting on the patio, in the community room, sleeping, or working on our human statue skills. Walking around the property was considered "excessive movement" and exercise in any aspect was a hard no. I felt like a caged lion; I was filled with anxious energy in a way I was not familiar with. All my coping mechanisms (restriction, exercise, and isolation) had been taken away and I was left to face my emotions for the first time in years.


My first couple of days were some of the hardest of my life. My eating disorder went wild. It became not only a fight against myself, but a fight against my environment. As discussed, I'm an incredibly competitive person and the eating disorder used that to its advantage. My first two days I cried through meals, refusing to eat because I felt like I had to prove I had to be there. Up until the day I discharged Residential I never thought I was sick enough, or thin enough to be sent there; I didn't think it was as much as a problem as it was. My eating disorder drove me to prove I was the "best" at my eating disorder, could refuse the most, could fight back the most. Ultimately that spirit broke when they threatened to take away my outside privileges because finally, Olivia won over Ed. The passion and love for the outdoors, sunshine, and fresh air outweighed Ed's desire to not complete meals. A lightbulb moment came after I began consistently completing meals. I realized I actually really liked having the energy to live, having conversations with friends, not falling victim to hunger pains and migraines, and exploring food preferences. Ed had set up a mental block, set up border patrol, surrounding the constantly recurring "You can't allow yourself to eat" challenge. The beginning of the end of my eating disorder started when I decided to pick my battles and challenge Ed, rather than surrendering and letting him pick my battles for me. You better believe I felt like a bad bitch when I successfully ate chicken parm for dinner followed by ice cream for dessert.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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