Right Where I Needed to Be

I've changed the names of the women in my groups out of respect for their own personal struggles.

After my trip to the emergency room I started researching other options for treatment. The first doctor I had seen was not a good fit. I needed to go somewhere that was more hands on and involved in my progress. I remembered  a therapist I had briefly spoken with at the first office mentioned she used to work at a place called The Renfrew Center. I looked them up and called to schedule an assessment. 

I hear a chorus of angels singing when I think of Renfrew. I like to think they saved my life. When I got to the office I was feeling brave. I had already done this. I had already told someone some of my deepest secrets. I probably won't even cry this time. The lady that came to get me was kind. That word doesn't seem quite right, but she embodied kindness. She took me through a labyrinth of rooms to get to her office.  We sat down and she started asking me questions she was reading from her computer. With every answer I gave, she demonstrated some type of movement or response that showed compassion. It was inevitable- I cried (it's what I do). I apologized and she handed me tissues and said, "It's okay. These things are hard to talk about." I felt comforted and like she understood. 

After the assessment was finished s she told me about the levels of treatment, and we concluded that IOP (intensive outpatient program) was the best option for me. It would mean me driving almost 2 hours 3 nights a week for 3-4 hours of therapy at a time. I would have an individual therapy session once a week, a nutritionist session once a month, and the rest would be group therapy. I would be eating dinner on site with a therapist present and then be prompted to talk about the emotions surrounding the food. It sounded a little daunting. 

3 days later...

It was the first night in IOP-- a Monday. I was nervous. I walked into the large room, which contained 3 couches, and four arm chairs. There was a lady across the room reading. She looked maybe late 40's, dark hair, thin. She looked up but didn't say anything. 

"Are you here for IOP?" I said. "Yep." 

"I'm Hannah." 

"I'm Linda." She kept reading. Two more girls came in together. They looked like babies. They introduced themselves. "Hi, I'm Lucy! I love your sweater."  "I'm Lauren."  . They were adorable and I was so sad they were there. These poor young girls have eating disorders. Another lady, Tracy, came in and introduced herself and said it was her first night too. She was late 40's-early 50's. She was going to be the mama, I could tell. She was outgoing and said she would be the crier of the bunch so to get ready. I was feeling more at ease already. 

The first session was enough to tell me I had come to the right place. After that, it was meal time. We all went to the kitchen and the other girls started instructing Tracy and I on what to do. I was a little intimidated. Each of us had our own tray with a sheet telling us how many exchanges we need (fruits, veggies, dairy protein, meat protein, starches, etc.) 

After getting our food, we went into the dining room where there were rules about not hiding food in our clothes and no "food talk". No going to the bathroom unaccompanied for 30 minutes after the meal, either. This was a whole new world. I was a little scared of what might take place. Another lady, Lisa, showed up during the meal and apologized for being late. She started crying and said it had been a really hard week. I was nervous she was going to lose it when she got her food, but the meal was pretty uneventful. After we ate, we went around the room. "On a hunger scale of 1-10, how full would you say you are?" The therapist went around and asked each girl these questions. "Is that an emotional full or a physical full? Are you feeling the need to use behaviors?" What in the world is she talking about? I thought. When it got around to me, I was confident. I answered quickly. "I'm about an 8. I feel good. I enjoyed the meal and I'm good." The therapist said, "Well good. Are you feeling the need use behaviors?" "Well, meals aren't that hard for me. That's why I've been so good at hiding this. The problem for me will come when I get home.." my voice cracked. "I will go home, and take laxatives to justify eating today." I started to cry. "That's why I feel good right now. I have an out later." 

I could feel every woman shift. It was almost as if they were sending me support without saying a word. Then there was Tracy. "I can't stand it! I'm a hugger! Can I hug you?" She wrapped her arms around me and patted me. "You're going to be okay, honey." 

I knew I was. I was right where I needed to be and I couldn't wait to go back.