Residential Reflections

A little bit ago, I wrote in my journal:

“People say that things get better, but I don’t believe that they will. Nothing works. Nothing helps. It feels like nothing matters.”

I preach on this page about hope and healing, but I was feeling so far away from these things.

I have been hesitant to talk about my mental health as of late because I have been in such a dark place. I didn’t feel like it was authentic to post anything with an uplifting message when I genuinely had no hope.  Everything felt hollow: the phrases of encouragement, the reminders to “keep going,” even the idea that recovery was possible. I didn’t believe any of it.

I have spent the last 13 weeks in eating disorder treatment, including 2 inpatient stays and 11 weeks in residential.

After spending 6 months of 2024 in OCD treatment, I never imagined I would need this level of support again. I was ashamed that I was returning to treatment. It felt like taking a step backwards.

As the weeks unfolded, I have realized that healing isn’t linear.  I’ve started to accept that it’s okay to need different kinds of help at different times. Needing treatment again doesn’t erase the progress I have already made.  It’s proof that I am still choosing to live, still choosing to fight for myself even when I don’t fully believe I deserve to. Recovery is an ongoing process. I feel proud that I chose to fight for my life one more time.

A few days after the initial journal entry I wrote:

“Today I am choosing to believe that things could improve. Maybe the first step is simply believing that there could be hope.”

I wrote these two journal entries at the beginning and end of my stay in the mental health inpatient unit. In my time there, I began to accept what my team was telling me. That I didn’t know what the future holds.  That it’s possible for the future to be something other than pain. That there is hope, even when I can’t feel it.

I still have a long journey ahead. It is still hard a lot of the time - hard to eat, hard to get out of bed, hard to believe that things could change. I have been re-reading a lot of my own blogs, reminding myself of the lessons I have learned along the way. I think this time I can truly believe the truths I write about.

I am grateful for my team who have gotten me through some of the hardest weeks of my life. They have helped me find hope again: something I didn’t think I would ever have.

Maybe healing isn’t about believing everything will be okay. Maybe it’s about allowing for the possibility that it could be. And for now, that’s enough.