I’m not sure if I can remember the first day at the hospital, but I do remember filming me walking through the double paned sliding doors. I had decided that while I went through the hospital program I wanted to create a documentary on my story. It never got completed…although I’m attempting to dig deep and find some old vlogs I made in my room on evenings when I wasn’t feeling so hot. If I get them I might share a couple with you all, although I imagine it might be painful to watch and slightly surreal. A couple times I thought maybe if I filmed myself throwing up it would make me stop. Well I never tried and we’ll never know…but I’m sure even videos of myself at the time will stir up old memories and forgotten experiences.

It’s kinda hard to believe I went to a hospital everyday for the better part of three months. One of the things I remember was the elevator voice. It recited the number of every single floor. Everyday like clock work, I got off at floor 7…turned left and walked to the end of the hall where the eating disorder out-patient wing was located at TGH. CLick here for more information on UHN’s Eating Disorder facilities

I never liked hospitals much…does anyone??? It’s not even as if I had a negative experience there, but they are just so god damn sterile. It’s like going into an episode of the twilight zone, where everything seems just a little off. But really I’m not trying to bash, because in all honesty the program may have saved my life.

All of a sudden it’s all flooding back. As I write this my noise tingles and eyes well… I forgot! Or maybe I haven’t thought about it in awhile…or maybe I’ve never thought about. Yeah I think that’s it. The minute I decided I was done with the hospital, I moved on and didn’t look back… But now I want to remember.

I want to remember the lunches where we weren’t allowed to talk about anything real…only light subjects so as to avoid emotional upset while having to finish everything on our plates. I want to remember the faces that shared my experiences; crying, laughing and ultimately healing. I want to remember the counselors, the rooms, the halls, the couches, the bathrooms, the food court, the outings, the 20 min afternoon strolls, and the only time in my life when all I focused on was ME and getting better.

It’s no wonder to me that we as a collective society are so fucked up. That we are so far from ourselves. We live in concrete jungles, we go to work in windowless rooms where the air quality is sub par. We speak of things that don’t matter, we watch propaganda and listen to nothing both the drone of our sorry existence.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about responsibility. It’s come up in conversation and circumstance in this past week. I had a rough day on Wednesday. I had one of those afternoons where you just start crying. Something hits you hard, sometimes your not even sure what..but things start flooding in and you’re a wreck. Luckily I had track practice and after a good cry I decided to get up and get physical.

On my way home from the track I was listening to CBC. What a forgotten pleasure listening to the radio is! They had a program on about responsibility. It was called My Brother’s – And My Sister’s Keeper. There was a panel of philosopher’s dissecting the line from the bible “…Am I my brother’s keeper”. They spoke of what our responsibility is as human beings. It was fascinating, and I found it quickly became evident that there was a difference between a more feminine viewpoint and a more masculine…and I don’t merely mean male vs. female.

I listened for some time and I encourage you to do the same, as it really got me thinking about responsibility and beliefs. What we owe to each other, what we owe to ourselves, and what we owe to the world we live in. Funny enough the next day I was part of a workshop where the speaker (totally separate from my radio show listen) talked about belief and how there are ‘no beliefs that are true”. I questioned him on his use of the word true, and it got my wheel’s turning. It re-inspired me to know more about myself and the world…how I relate to it all and ultimately how I want to live the rest of my life.

It was a crazy time back in the hospital. In some ways it doesn’t even feel like I was the same person…but in this physical world, or maybe even spiritual, I guess I am. It’s funny how it can feel like you’ve lived a handful of different lives all in a single one. It seems bizarre that there are only some memories we keep close in our consciousness. All in all I have come to no conclusions. Maybe I never will..but I was excited to feel a new spark inside me. I realized I am once again ready to take on more. I am ready to be my full self with no apology. Size doesn’t matter how it did in the past. My body will no longer be a mechanism of self destruction. This I know is my responsibility to myself and I can assuredly say is TRUE.

Comments, questions and sharing are more than welcome here. I look forward to hearing from you!