Life after hospital: the last 10 months of freedom

I was completely discharged from hospital services on the 18^th February 2019. What a whirlwind of 10 months its been… I was in hospital for the majority of 4 years, most of that I was very unwell and held there against my will. I longed for the days I could sleep in my own bed, be with my family and friends, do ‘normal’ things. I planned, hoped, dreamed. For a while I never thought it would happen. So what did happen on that day I was suddenly ‘free’? every single emotion in the book. For a few days, exhilaration and excitement, sheer joy and happiness. There was also fear, worry and the hardest part… adjustment. I was ‘used’ to hospital and the way it worked. Visitors stayed for two hours and then left. Staff sat next to me for every meal and told me I had to eat. We played games or watched DVD’s or had crying filled 1-1’s with staff post meals. We were allowed two 15 minute walks a day around the hospital grounds. Whilst I was in hospital, I longed for the outside. As soon as I got outside, I was suddenly in this massive world that I hadn’t been a apart of from years, especially not whilst ‘well’.

Adjusting to normal life took me a lot longer than predicted. There’s the obvious, the food and exercise, managing my eating disorder and mental health. But there was a whole host of experiences that I had either missed out on completely, or had only experienced it in a ‘controlled environment’. Even though my life had stopped, the world hadn’t, and the realisation hit me hard. The first few months were fraught with panic attacks and my anxiety taking hold of most situations. My mum and dad held my hand through everything, and it was apparent there was one problem that needed to be tackled slowly but surely – I had never been by myself before. I’ve been ill since early teenage years, the whole time I’ve been ill, its required to constantly have people around me. I was put in hospital at 17 years old, the next four years, I was constantly surrounded by people. On 1-1 observations for months on end, escorted whenever I went anywhere outside the hospital. I had no idea how to be by myself, most importantly… trust myself. Every time id been ‘alone’ before, my illness had been in control and I had either hurt myself, not eaten, exercised etc. those months we started building it up. An hour at a time, then a few hours, then longer and longer. Remembering this makes me realise how far I’ve come. 10 months later and I actually look forward to spending a few days by myself! I find eating by myself most manageable, I haven’t hurt myself for 9 months and I am engaging in recovery from my eating disorder.

There was so many things I had to relearn and readjust to. Learning to drive again, to fill my days, most importantly of course; I had my little puppy to keep me going. Hugo has been my world since day dot, and no matter how many times I felt like giving up, I had him and he needs me. Whilst doing this, I was also grieving for one of my best friends who suddenly passed away at the beginning of the year, which hit me hard.

The next 6 months were up and down. The battle with my anorexia became very tough at points and there was a real possibility of me being re-admitted to hospital. I’m a stubborn old person and I couldn’t bare the thought of such. So I fought. I ate. I rested. I took my medication. I drive myself to therapy and dietician appointments twice a week, I see my psychiatrist and social worker. I learnt to surround myself with people who helped me and kept me strong, friends who never gave up on me, dogs for any cuddle, mum and dad for holding my hand every single day.

Summer was huge for me. After a wonderful birthday, followed by a relaxing trip to Spain with mum… I got an unconditional offer to study the course I love, psychology. Everything was lining up and I knew more than ever I needed to keep strong now. My therapy changed, but then settled. I started working my butt of to keep well. I agreed to restore my weight from home (which by this point was becoming a serious problem). No one quite believed I could do it… but I knew I could. Head down, focus.

So lets fast-forward, what is life after hospital looking like for me now? I’m 3 months into uni, and loving it. I have my wonderful family around me, and the most incredible friends. My puppy is cheeky as ever, and his training is HARD, but we are doing well and I wouldn’t be a day without him. I’ve secured a mental health placement in Bali august 2020. I’m actively restoring my weight (despite how hard I still find it), still going to therapy and dietician appointments, seeing my social worker and psychiatrist. I still have blood tests every 4 weeks and ECG’s to monitor my health. Most weeks fly by and time is something I sure feel I don’t have enough of at the moment, but that’s good. It’s a change from the days I used to watch the clock tick by agonisingly slowly.

There is a life after hospital, there will be a life after an eating disorder. There is a life full of opportunities and excitement, happiness and laughter. There’s also tears, and stressors, pressures and decisions. Life isn’t straight forward, its not perfect (which has been hard for me to accept; in hospital I dreamt about all the things I was going to do and made these wonderful plans… but perfection doesn’t exist, and that’s OKAY). I’m currently doing the best I ever have, I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m planning a future because I can finally see one. I’m learning to put myself first, that its okay to ask for what I need and remind myself every single day that my recovery must always come first.