Friday, February 15, 2013
1, 972 Miles from Home
At least that's the rough estimate from Google Maps. Almost 2,000 miles from my husband, my dogs, my home, my car (oh, Prius), my bed...but the homesickness? It's finally begun to wear off. It's strange to write that, and a part of me feels guilty. I feel most guilty when I talk to Mike about it, because sometimes I think I should feel more homesick. Then again, as I'm learning in Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (thanks, ACT..insert copyright sign here!), I shouldn't should myself. I feel alive here, and that's something I have not felt in a long time. I'm not ready to be home. I'm ready to be here.
I'm moving on to the next stage in my treatment, too. I have been in the hospital for just over one month. Twenty-four hour care, nurses, doctors, labs, med windows..locked doors, you name it. Next week, I will transition to an intensive partial hospital program run by the same center. I will be in treatment for 11 hours per day, including weekends-which is much more than any other partial program offers-but does allow for freedom at night. I'll live in sponsored apartments (and I've seen them online-swanky!) with others participating in the program, and we'll have days very similar to those in the hospital. The big difference? Lots of real-world challenges. Passes to eat at restaurants, trips out, weekly grocery shopping, cooking classes, handling your own medications, unsupervised meals and snacks, free time after program..
It's a lot to take in, and I don't know if I'm ready. I don't know if I'll ever be ready, though. I feel very safe here. It's predictable, like the eating disorder. But I can't live a life of predictability. This gets me back to homesickness: I am homesick for my life before the eating disorder. THAT is the life I nmiss. I experienced a taste of it (no pun intended) when Mike came to visit me here. Best weekend I've had in months, and I was in the hospital. Go figure. I want a life where I can be spontaneous, where not everything is planned or packed or measured. This next stage of treatment is scary as hell, but it will bring my closer to that goal.
I might be gone for another month or more, and that's scary, too. Just because I'm not homesick in the traditional sense (and let me set this straight-I miss my husband and dogs and life more than words can say..I just don't miss who I was when I was there) doesn't mean being away this long doesn't scare me. I'm petrified. Who will I be when I come home? Who am I becoming now? Who am I without the eating disorder, and what do I want?
So yes, more miles and more time, but when I return to Boston, it will be the best homecoming ever.
PS: When I come home, I'll be stocking up on scrubs for school...I'm going to be a vet tech :)