the beginning

It was February 5th, 2007. The bears had just lost the super bowl the day before and I was waking up in a hotel room in Warrenville, IL at an ungodly hour in the morning. Having grown up on the coast of South Carolina, it was my first time experiencing a winter that was below 50 degrees. On top of which, according to news reports that morning it was "the coldest winter in Chicago history." I arrived in Chicago a few days before and upon exiting the airport I went into shock. I had never felt cold like that before, nor had I ever conceived in my mind that it was physically possible to be that cold. Sure, I had seen people act that cold in the movies, but that was the movies. In the movies people also end up "happily ever after," which I think is one of Hollywood's greatest fabrications, but that's a topic for another blog.

So on this cold February morning in Warrenville, IL, I packed up my bags, waited for my dad outside of our hotel room and the two of us headed for the place that was going to change the course of my life. In some ways this was my hope, and in some ways it was my fear. I so desperately wanted change from the life I had been living, but I was so desperately afraid for the change to actually take place. I wanted to be at a point where I could look back and say "look what I've come through, and look how I've healed from it," but I didn't want to actually go through what it took to get to that point. I wanted the title of a champion, without having to fight for it.

Despite my desires to skip the process, my body moved forward while my mind dragged behind. I got in the car and I remember the drive being really silent. It was about 30-45 minutes from where we were staying and everything was covered under a white blanket of snow. I remember being in awe and hoping that the drive would continue on without ever stopping. It's quite a paradox when I think about it now: while staring out of the car window that day I wanted the journey to never end, with no destination in sight, at least in the external, physical sense; but while looking inside of myself, I just wanted to get to my destination of being healed without ever having to begin a journey. It's funny how two such opposite feelings and desires can co-exist within the same person. I have often considered myself a walking contradiction, but that day certainly sticks out in my mind as one of the most aggressive wrestling matches between my thoughts.

As we neared the town I would be living in for the next two months, I began to feel a bit more anxious. I had no idea what to expect. I remember passing a large Buddhist temple on the way and thought it would be the perfect opportunity to stop and sight see, but dad thought it might not be the best idea if we wanted to make our 7am "admissions" appointment.

Admissions. I hadn't heard that word since I was in high school when I applied for college. What was I doing at 23, a college graduate, seeking admissions again. It might seem acceptable, even admirable, if it was admissions to a great new job, or even a graduate school of some sort, but it wasn't. And so I didn't feel acceptable, or admirable, or even lovable. I felt alone, and lost, and completely worthless, which is probably exactly why I needed to be admitted... to some place, any place that would accept me as I was, without a resume of great accomplishments or picture perfect credentials. In fact, it was in my efforts to strive for perfection that landed me in the place of feeling worthless and not good enough and in the very seat where I was sitting at that moment.

So dad kept driving. His spirit was as calm and peaceful as the quiet, white snow on the ground, and it was his peaceful presence that helped calm my anxiousness. I remember the exit. I remember driving over train tracks and into a section of town that looked like abandoned warehouses and it made me nervous. "Where are we?" I thought to myself. "I should have gone to California."

We turned into a gated area, maybe there were signs for the place, maybe they're weren't, I don't really remember, but what I do remember is the long driveway up a slight incline, surrounded by trees that were covered in snow. I was fascinated because to me they were more than just trees covered in snow; to me they were childhood stories coming to life! And whether that be because I had never really seen trees covered in snow or because my imagination was less grown up than it should be at 23, I was enchanted by my surroundings. I grew up hearing stories of the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe and all the chronicles of Narnia, and in that moment I remember feeling like we were driving into Narnia (that is, if Narnia could be driven into). I remember seeing a lamp post and actually picturing Mr. Tumnus standing beside it, shivering in the cold. I smiled to myself, not because it's funny to see a faun shivering in the cold, that would be quite rude, but I smiled because for a split second I had the thought "we found it!" and I wasn't worried.

The second passed and we pulled into a parking spot outside of a big building. Nothing brings you back to reality more than a parking lot full of expensive cars. "Parking lots, big, fancy cars... Oh right, we're in America," I thought to myself. I closed the car door and I followed my dad up the wet, wooden stairs. We had to wait outside to be buzzed in the front door. The inside of the building was kinda of dark, with a little bit of natural light coming in through some skylights... at least that's how I think I remember it. There was a big staircase in the middle of the room and some benches and large fake plants. "Narnia would never have fake plants," I jokingly thought, so as to keep myself from the reality of where I was. The rest of my time in that building is still a haze. I remember paperwork and talking, but not much else.

My dad and I got in the car and followed someone to the other side of "campus," which wasn't really far enough to justify driving to. We should have walked but I guess between the suitcases and the snow, it was probably a good idea to loop around a few feet away from where we were. We approached two sets of double glass doors, both locked and alarmed, only to be unlocked and disarmed by the person we were following. My heart was pounding. I followed in behind my dad, and standing there in a row were what seemed like 20 adults (but it was really only like 7), two of which had on white lab coats. It was eerily quiet and a bit intimidating. Introductions began all around... doctors, nurses, behavioral health assistants. I didn't remember any names that day, but a few of the faces I grew fond of over time.

I met with each of the people standing there and talked about the same thing with each one of them. I was really quite tired of repeating myself and thought that perhaps they should do a better job of communicating between themselves instead of asking me to repeat myself seven times. The last meeting my dad sat in the room with me, where he did more talking than I, thank God. They told me my dad was going to leave and I was going to have to stay. I wanted to respond with "I'm 23, I know how this works," but I very quietly said OK. I think I appeared to be more scared than I actually was, but after my dad left and as the day went on, I realized I was more scared than I actually appeared to be.

My dad kissed me goodbye and I sat silently in the room, waiting for a nurse to come and get me, as I was told. The silence was so loud. "Where am I?" I kept thinking to myself, "how did I get here? Why am I here? How did this happen?" My questions were followed by affirmations, "I'm glad I'm here... I think. I mean, I'm glad I'm not alone. I'm so glad I'm not alone in this anymore." The nurse came in and she introduced herself as "Liz." No "Mrs.," no formal last name, not even "nurse Liz," just "Liz," and I remember I liked that. Liz had a sweet face and a warm smile. She had short, curly, salt and pepper colored hair, with probably more salt than pepper (a sign of wisdom, no doubt), and her eyes hid behind a pair of small framed glasses. She had a very halcyon presence and I instantly felt calm when I was around her. She told me it was time for the "awkward part" of the day, as she had to examine my body, but said not to worry because it would be over quick. I liked that she just called it like it was... "awkward." Maybe it wasn't awkward for her since she has examined numerous people's bodies over the last however many years, but assuming that I didn't have numerous people examine my body on a regular basis, ever, it was kind of her to express that she understood how I felt.

I followed her to another room where I handed her my clothes and of course felt awkward and exposed. I knew I was hidden in a place where no one could see me, and I trusted Liz, but I still couldn't help but feel ashamed. I hated what I saw, so I stared at the white-washed brick wall. I looked up and down all over the room as Liz just looked me all over. She wrote down every scar and bruise that made itself known to her. The questions entered my mind again, "Where am I? What am I doing here? Why am I here? How did this happen?" I remember clinching my fists and almost feeling unable to un-clinch them until I got my clothes back. Liz was kind enough to make small talk while I stood there without them, but even the sweetness of her voice wasn't enough to make me comfortable in that moment.

I thought I would be fine as soon as it all was over, but once I got comfortably back into my clothes Liz told me it was time for lunch. "I think I'd rather stand here naked," I thought to myself. When I walked out of the "examination room", as I came to call it because you knew what was going to happen anytime someone went in there, the once quiet lobby that I had first walked into was now loud and filled with girls of all ages. I was so overwhelmed by everything going on around me. I didn't want anybody to talk to me, but at the same time, I didn't want to be alone.

Usually at meal time all the girls were escorted to the cafeteria to eat, except for the ones who misbehaved, they had to stay behind and eat in the lodge (where I was at this point). The other exception for girls who couldn't go to the cafeteria were the girls who were on exercise restriction and the girls who were new arrivals. New arrivals were on lock down for 24 hours, meaning they couldn't leave the lodge at all. Technically, we were always on lock down since we were locked in, but after 24 hours from the time you arrived, you were allowed to be escorted to other parts of the campus, making you feel at least slightly above a prisoner.

And so, Liz walked me to the kitchen in the lodge where a few girls were already sitting. I sat quietly and looked at the other girls. I sort of smiled in way that said "please don't talk to me even though I'm desperately lonely and need a friend." Before introductions began a guy walked in with a styrofoam to-go box and placed it in front of me. I hesitantly opened it and almost cringed when I saw it... lasagna, peas, and a baguette roll. "I'll eat the peas," I said to myself, "but nothing else!" On the outside I just smiled and began eating my peas. The guy who brought my food in sat down at the table next to me and introduced himself. He said his name was Nic without a 'k,' which I really liked because I always tried to explain to people that my name was Jennie with an 'i-e' not a 'y.' I hate when people spell my name with a 'y,' and I was sure Nic understood how I felt since, like most other people, I probably would have spelt his name with a 'k' too had he not have told me.

As I was "eating" I was very aware of two other girls in particular sitting at the table. One who was sitting at the end of the table, rocking back and forth with her head down and whispering something to herself (at first I thought she saying grace before her meal, but when she didn't stop I had a feeling that was not what she was doing), and another who was just staring at me. I had that feeling again of "where am I?" followed by "are these people crazy? Am I crazy?" The one girl who was staring at me finally asked me my name and I quietly told her. The girl at the end who was rocking herself lifted her head and said "that's a pretty name," then lowered her head back down and went back to rocking and whispering. The other girls introduced themselves too, I think about 5 all together, but it was those two girls that I specifically remember. The girl who was staring at me then started getting loud and boisterous and all the other girls followed along. "Misbehavior, " I thought to myself, "plus they seem way too comfortable to have just arrived." I could tell the once staring, now loud girl had a heavy influence on all the others, at least the ones in the kitchen, so I was going to make it a point not to associate with her so as not to conform. At the time I didn't realize I could be a friend to her without conforming to her lifestyle, but I don't hold it against myself because at the time I could barely think clearly enough to survive.

"My mom hates me because I love women," the girl yelled, and everybody started laughing. "I'm serious, my mom hates me. And I love women!" I felt sad, and uncomfortable. This was my first time living somewhere outside of southern culture where even if women did love women, no one dared to say it. Mixed in with being sad and uncomfortable was a small dose of admiration for her honesty. Nic told everyone to quiet down, then very nicely addressed the girl who was rocking and whispering at the end of the table and told her it was time for her to stop what she was doing and start eating. The other girls then began to encourage her and she slowly started to lift her head and smiled as she began to eat. Upon seeing this, my heart softened a little bit towards the other girls because I realized that even though they seemed intimidating, they really cared about this girl and maybe at some point they could even care about me. The funny thing is that I was older than most of the girls in the kitchen, but I was coming from a place of such bondage for so long that I felt like a child in their company.

I finished my peas and began to close the box and then Nic told me that I had to finish everything. In fact, what I soon found out was that the reason he was in the kitchen was not only to monitor the girls' behavior, but to make sure certain girls, myself included, ate everything on their plates. My heart sank and I literally went into shock. I almost felt like I couldn't breath. "I watched the other girls eat and they didn't finish everything," I thought to myself, "how come I have to? This isn't fair!" I was literally freaking out on the inside, preparing a rebellion in my mind, yet on the outside I was cool and collected. No one ever would have thought I had a care in the world. It's scary how good I was, and even sometimes still am, at that... pretending. I quietly asked Nic why I had to finish what was on my "plate" and why the others didn't (they were all done and out of the kitchen by now). He said it was because I was on a meal plan and they weren't, and until I met with a dietitian, who didn't come in until the next morning, I just had to eat what I was given. I was screaming on the inside and I began to tear up; the tears were the only thing I couldn't keep in or hide very well.

Nic asked me if I was OK and asked what it was that I didn't want to eat. I thought his asking meant he was going compromise with me, but it didn't. He was literally just asking, which is when I first started to realize that guys don't actually use hidden messages... what they are saying is actually what they are saying. "Really?" I asked myself, "it took me coming to this place to figure that out?"

I did as I was told and ate everything I was supposed to, but it took me almost 2 hours. Nic told me since it was my first day he understood it taking so long, but then said that by tomorrow I would have to finish my meals in an hour, and if I wanted to go to the cafeteria at all, in under an hour. He said it very gently so as not to hurt my feelings, but I was still upset. I cringed again, "how can they expect me to do all this? This is too much, too fast, this is ridiculous!" I was pissed. I hated every bit of how I felt. I was so uncomfortable that I couldn't stand it. My stomach was so full it physically hurt and I thought for sure these people had no idea what they were doing. I thought about the ingredients in the food that were now in my body and it drove me insane. I hated not knowing what each ingredient was and I hated not knowing how many calories I just ate, though I had a pretty good guess, and I hated that it was all just sitting there in my stomach; but more than all of that, I hated not having control. I hated it so much that it consumed me. That is was what I think really drove me crazy, and that is why I ended up exactly where I was in that moment.


To be continued...