Winter and Spring

I have been to residential eating disorder treatment four times. Three times in the late fall or winter at the same site and one time in the summer at a different site. I find, as you might guess, certain months very difficult. Those months include May and November. Year after year, I do not plan for the difficulty those months bring — this may and November included — and except for these most recent Mays and Novembers, I have either wound up in residential eating disorder treatment or just had a terrible summer, which eventually lead to me needing treatment in the late fall.

When I think about my summer in Denver, I think about my summer in Denver. Yes, I was in treatment, but I also remember beaming sun rays, sunset walks along a hill by my treatment-sponsored apartment, driving a rental car up the mountains to Boulder to drink kombucha outside on Pearl Street. When I wasn’t engaging in these non-treatment activities, I was planning them during my 24-hour residential stay or my 12-hour PHP stay. We all were. I learned a ton in my time in Denver, but I think I was a little luckier than usual by going there during the summer.

On the contrary, the other residential site I admitted to is in a suburb of Philadelphia. Situated on top of a hill and seemingly much farther away from civilization, especially while you’re a patient. I spent two Christmases there. I spent one New Year’s Eve there. And all three times, it was the winter. It got dark earlier. We’d all layer on coats to walk the approximately 400 feet to another building. Smoke breaks were a bunch of women huddling close on benches wrapped in blankets. Fuzzy socks abounded. The sun did come out, but it surely didn’t stay out for a very long time. Everything was cold. Even when I’ve drove up to visit or pick up a friend, it’s been in the cold and the dark.

Seasonal depression is indubitably a thing. I was fortunate enough to “get better” from my fourth and hopefully final admission. This past weekend, I went to the annual reunion at the site by Philly. The forecasted rain held out until the reunion’s end which was a welcome surprise. Most of the female staff wore beautiful dresses and sandals. Many of the alumni were also in summery, floral prints and sandals. There were no coats. There were no extra layers. It is certainly frightening for some of us with eating disorders to show parts of our bodies we’re uncomfortable with — and those parts surely change more quickly than the seasons — but sometimes the weather just calls for different clothing. Less bulky, less heavy — and, to use the absolutely worst eating disorder pun in the world, less weighty.

My therapist from my most recent stay (who helped me more than I could ever thank her for) sat down next to me to chat at the end of the reunion. The first thing I said to her was concerning the weather.

“I’ve never been here when everything is so green.”

“You have no idea the difference it makes,” she answered.

And it’s true. The fairly unattractive buildings, in the summer, are surrounded by greenery. The garden is in full bloom and the small pond is full of clear water versus thick sheets of ice. The sun shines for a much longer period of time. I noticed patients eating lunch out on the patio. I couldn’t help but wonder that despite the vast differences between the two residential facilities I stayed in, the time of year is really what makes me reflect on the two so differently.

Summer is probably the hardest time of the year for me. I’m not sure what it is about it. I always joke that I hate sunshine, which is probably 80% true. I hate being sweaty, sticky — sitting in leather seats after super hot yoga classes makes me go into sensory overload. In the summer, I find my body wanting to lose weight. Last summer, I was dangerously close to needing some level of treatment again. The winter is difficult in different ways. I want to retreat into isolation. I am so used to being upset and depressed and anxious in the early winter that it seems to just come naturally. This winter I was lucky enough to start dating my boyfriend which helped me care about myself far more than usual.

May was very, very hard. Very trying. Very hard not to retreat into my old ways and former behaviors. It is still very hard. I think the summer will be taxing as I finish up my graduate program and start my new job. But when I think about how different Renfrew was yesterday versus all of the winters I spent there, I think about the following quote: “Be patient with yourself, nothing in nature blooms all year.” Even when there aren’t blooms — like the times I was there — it can be beautiful. Even when there are blooms, it can be ugly. And of course, vice versa. Moral of the story: perspective, even retrospective thinking, really forces you to reflect. And reflection is perhaps the most beautiful thing.

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