1

Eleven Years Later and Still Recovering

Today marks eleven years in eating disorder recovery for me. December 14, 2010, I walked through the doors of residential treatment scared, hopeless and willing to do anything to build a life worth living. Last night in our Alliance Monday night support group, we discussed “Is full recovery possible?” Cliff notes: YES IT IS. AND…it isn’t always what you think it is. ***AND I acknowledge my privilege in the ability to access care and will continue to fight for mental…

Continue Reading →

11

Finding ME Again.

Some days it feels like the first six months of 2021 never happened. The countless needles, IVs, meds, PICC lines, surgeries feel like a distant nightmare. I was in survival mode. Other days, I sit with anxiety pounding my chest *knowing* the infection is back or something else will be wrong. I’ve avoided writing, feeling or slowing down since my last surgery on May 20th. It was like I rolled out of the hospital and sprinted back into the chaos…

Continue Reading →

2

I am HERE.

P!nk’s “I am HERE” has always been one of my go to anthems, but today more than ever the line struck me: “I am here, I am here. I’ve already seen the bottom, so there’s nothing to fear.” I’ve seen the bottom. I’ve seen lots of bottoms in my lifetime – and with each bottom comes a rising.  The challenges of this prophylactic double mastectomy and infection has left me gutted and awakened. I’ve felt physical and emotional pain I…

Continue Reading →

1

The House Don’t Fall When My Bones are Good

My therapy session started off the way all hard sessions do. Me: “I’m doing great.” Therapist: “That is wonderful.” Me: “Yes. I finally feel good physically and we had a great spring break trip with the kids. I haven’t been sleeping well. But other than that little issue things are great.” My therapist began asking those therapist-y questions: Why aren’t you sleeping? What is keeping you up? As she dug deeper, I revealed I lay awake at night replaying the…

Continue Reading →

2

The Weight of Recovery

Yesterday I tried putting on a real bra – not like an actual bra with an underwire, that would just be absurd. (I stand firmly in the Athleisure Pandemic trend – no wires, no buttons) I attempted to put on a real sports bra and it did not go over so well. Literally. It did not go over the expanders. Tired of the front clasping surgical bras I’ve been rocking for the last two months, I was determined to wear…

Continue Reading →

0

Red, Hot and ANGRY Boob

Recovery from this surgery (and any surgery I would venture to guess) is just as much mental as it is physical. My emotions are riding on a huge rollercoaster. Sometimes laughing and feeling myself to suddenly plunging into tears of frustration for not being able to do something or simply from being tired of hurting. On Wednesday, when I only got one of my two drains pulled I was not a happy camper. I was extra grumpy because the drain…

Continue Reading →

2

Doing the Hard Things: My Prophylactic Double Mastectomy

‘Twas the Night Before Surgery // Wednesday, January 6, 2021 Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. My eyes were glued to my watch – T-Minus 24-hours. Each passing minute another 60-seconds closer to my prophylactic double mastectomy, my thoughts clouded with future scenarios. “This time tomorrow… I’ll be in surgery…I’ll be out of surgery…I’ll be in post op, God I hope I make it to post-op. Don’t think like that, McCall.” The constant chatter in my head made the day pass painfully…

Continue Reading →

6

Roadmap to LIFE: Countdown to Surgery

The purple pen dotted my sternum, top to bottom, side to side. In a small mirror leaning on the counter in front of me, I watched as the doctor’s hand moved across my chest. I felt numb. Dot…dot…dot…line…line…. My gaze went from the small, handheld mirror holding my reflection to the blank ceiling above not wanting to see reality. My kneecaps shook with anxiety. My mom sat in the chair behind me. The room silent, but her presence calmed my…

Continue Reading →

1

Ten Years Later and Still Choosing LIFE

December 14, 2010 I woke up alone in a hotel room scared of the day ahead – scared of recovery, scared of the unknown and scared to let go of my eating disorder. In just a few hours I would admit myself to residential treatment at the Carolina House for my eating disorder. In the weeks leading up to this moment, fear crept through my veins, leaving me in a constant state of panic numbed by my eating disorder –…

Continue Reading →