Over three months.
That’s how long it’s been since I’ve attended a class at UMass Amherst. Nearly one hundred days ago, I attended my last class and then came home in the middle of a crazy rainstorm crying nearly as hard as the rain was falling.
My foolish thought then was that this would be a quick fix. Not knowing the depths of my disorder; not being aware of just how tightly it held me in its grasp, I figured that I would go home, magically be cured (somehow the actual weight gain was left entirely out of this process), and then returned to UMass in a sparkly and glowy fashion, ready to take on the spring semester in a blaze of glory like never before. I would be happy, I would be healthy, and I would be so successful that nothing would dare stand in my way.
This, of course, has proven to be incredibly incorrect. Anorexia doesn’t play nice. It caught wind of the fact that I wanted to be rid of it, and it rebelled with astonishing force. That’s why I’m sitting here in the hospital instead of at my desk getting ready or in a classroom learning about something minorly fascinating. That’s why this is my third time in the hospital instead of my not even having had to be admitted. That’s why I still have an absurd level of hatred for my body, and why I know that even if I do manage to recover by treatment standards in the next few weeks, this is something that will haunt me for the rest of my days. Such is the unfortunate truth of my disorder. There is no magic cure-all. There’s not a bandaid you can place over the cuts this disease has laced across my heart and soul.
Something I have learned, though, is that this recovery takes time. I’ve already had to take this spring semester off in my efforts to get better.
And now I’m contemplating doing it again. Forgoing this upcoming fall semester; thereby essentially giving myself a year to recover enough to attend college safely. Maybe learning things about myself in the process. Maybe rediscovering who I am and where I’m meant to be in this world. Maybe even discovering what it is I’m meant to do.
So I’ll put a poll here, just for the heck of it. I won’t necessarily take the results of it into consideration at all. But a lot of my readership has dealt with eating disorders before, and I’m willing to bet the vast majority also has my best interests at heart where I might not always.
Do you think I should take off another semester?