E, Unmasked

E is young, vibrant, incredibly intelligent, empathetic and a seasoned First Responder on two EMS Squads.

E also is depressed, anxious, in recovery from an eating disorder, all too familiar with mental health institutions and has attempted to end her life. Twice. But, I would still trust her in a heartbeat with saving mine.

She is also brave. Vulnerable. And insistent on sharing her story to save others.

"I used to be open with my story & share on Facebook what was going on. But I felt a lot of shame and I felt like I shared too much. So I stopped sharing altogether. When I saw what you were doing, I realized I went through what I went through for a reason. I want to share my story with other people to show them that there is hope that you can go from being someone who is non-functioning in a treatment center for a year and a half to someone who still has their struggles but is happy & enjoying life." 

Well, E, this platform was created specifically so people like you can share openly. In this blog series, especially for you, I will give you the floor.

The first time I self-harmed was in middle school. It was the day after my aunt died. I didn’t even know what I was doing. I had gotten out of the shower and I saw the nail clippers. I thought if I just took a chunk out of my skin that I would feel better. I did it. I still have the scar on my arm from it because it was that bad. I went into school and didn’t think anyone would question me about it. But my teacher came over to me and asked what it was. I answered her, not knowing that the wording would raise a red flag. I said, “I cut myself.” I didn’t really KNOW what that meant. This student turns around and says, “Doesn’t that make you suicidal?” I realized what I had just said. But at the time, I wasn’t. So I said I was skateboarding and I fell down. It did not look like a skateboarding injury. She kept me after class and I admitted what I truly did. After that I got called to the school counselor but I lied and told her I didn’t do it. Another teacher at the time confronted me about it as well. But again I denied it was anything other than a skateboarding injury. Nothing else ever happened with it after that.

Noone followed up with me. If someone followed up with me at that point and caught it, I don’t believe I would be struggling to this day. The first time I ever did it, it was caught. Someone could have helped me. Someone tried to help me and I fell through the cracks.

I wish the school counselor pushed more and asked what was going on at home. Instead of focusing on what I was saying asking me what else was going on. I understand everyone has their limitations of how they can help and it’s not their fault. There is a little bit of responsibility on me for not wanting the help and not being open. So I need to understand that. I’m ok with it. It might have changed the outcome of things and it might not have. And that’s OK.

I remember the shift. It was the week of the Christmas dance Senior Year. The whole week I didn’t eat anything. At the end of the week I got to a point where I didn’t want to live anymore. I had never experienced that before. I was like “what is going on?” Before that I was doing fine in school. I had depression that I’d been dealing with for awhile but this was awful. I had my dance recital and I almost passed out on stage. I was done. I didn’t want to do it anymore. I got to a point where I got really close to doing something but I stopped myself. We had Christmas break and I came back and everything changed. 

I was severely depressed. I was anxious constantly. I couldn’t calm myself down. My friends were very worried about me. They were constantly scared that I wasn’t going to show up at school. One day there was an announcement that a past student died. As soon as they heard that my friends thought it was me.

My friends found out on their own. My eating disorder started becoming very apparent. I lost ¼ of my body weight senior year and they started noticing my behaviors and confronted me. I was in the senior lounge & my best friend looked at me & I knew she knew. My heart sank.

Once they knew they just wanted to fix me. They were just trying to help all the time. I accepted it because I had nothing else but it was just so unfair to them. They were the same age as me. 17. They didn't know how to handle any of this. While I’m struggling, my friends are struggling, too.

They would text me and check in and make sure I was OK. I would text them when I was having a rough time. They would try to make sure I ate enough. They were doing things that teenagers shouldn’t have to do for their friends. Sometimes it worked and it would help me avoid doing something stupid like engaging in eating disorder behavior or self-harm. But I was at a point where I needed professional help and I wasn’t getting it. 

My family wasn’t aware of the eating disorder or anything else until April 12, 2015. My best friend’s mom knocked on my parent’s front door. When my mom answered she said she didn’t have time for it. But my friend’s mom persisted. I think she just didn’t want to have that discussion. Earlier that day I had gotten a text from my dad while I was at school. It said, “You’ve been acting funny lately.” So I went home and my parents confronted me. I don’t really have a memory of this but I just know they did. My memory is fuzzy from senior year. I don’t remember a lot of it because it was so stressful...my mind just shut it out. But my parents told me I have to go to therapy. I told them to wait 12 days until I turned 18. I wanted full control over my treatment. I didn’t want my parents involved. It was a control thing. Make me go to therapy? I’m gonna control it. I ended up getting what I wanted. The first therapy appointment wasn’t available until after my birthday.

I went to a therapist and she diagnosed me with bulimia. I remember she looked at my hands. I was confused. Apparently there’s usually scarring on people’s hands from having an eating disorder. It’s called “Russell’s Sign.” It’s from self-induced vomiting. I don’t have it anymore. But she immediately wanted me to go to a residential program. She didn’t want me to finish my senior year. She thought I was too medically fragile. At the time I was like, “that is B.S. I’m fine.” But now I’m like “Oh my God, I shouldn’t have finished senior year!” There were a couple of times I passed out at school. And nobody knew. 

Gym class was terrifying. I was certain I was going to pass out. I was in bad shape. I couldn’t think straight. Losing 40lbs in 4 months takes a toll on you. I was out of energy. I had brain fog all the time. I felt like I walked around school in a daze. I don’t remember how I handled it all. School, dance & working as an EMT. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t riding on the ambulance anymore but I can’t remember. Dance was difficult. Right before the recital I ended up pulling out of every dance but one. 

My in school dance teacher was the first person other than my friends to confront me about my eating disorder. I went to her after class one day and asked her for help because my outside dance teacher was making comments about my appearance. She put the pieces together very quickly after that. I don’t remember what she said but I would go and eat lunch with her when I was falling apart. I wouldn’t actually “eat.” One day she was like, “Here, have this bag of carrots.” I refused but she persisted and said, “Eat it.” So I did. She was great. She was one of the main reasons I kept coming to school. Even though I didn’t feel well, I knew she was there to support me. She knew about my eating disorder before my parents. She was the only adult that knew. 

My old therapist said I was “too sick” for her to deal with. I don’t even know what that means. She didn’t use those words but that’s what she meant. I think she realized she wasn’t qualified enough to help me. I was only her second eating disorder client.

I’ve been to treatment centers 5 times. Immediately after I graduated high school I went to my first one. I was terrified. My first day there I saw a girl who was admitted the same day as I and she was emaciated. It scared me. I thought, “I’m the fattest one here.” A lot of it is a blur. I was there for 3 weeks. I had to leave because insurance stopped covering. Every single time I discharged from treatment was because of insurance - not because I was ready to leave. 

I was in-patient for 3 weeks. Left. Did outpatient for 4 weeks. Went back to inpatient for 4 weeks. Kept repeating that pattern. Over the course of the summer after senior year of high school I was in-patient for 13 weeks but broken up into 3 separate stays. My family and I used to say, “Screw insurance companies.”

In 2016 I was living on campus down in Maryland. I woke up one morning and my sheets were covered in blood. I didn’t remember what happened the night before. But I was bleeding from my wrists. I needed help. I went to the counseling center and they called 911. I ended up getting admitted to a psych hospital because I didn’t remember what happened. I spent two weeks there. While I was there I tried to hang myself. A nurse found me. I went home with my parents and was immediately admitted to a treatment center in Arizona. I was there for 3 months. This was the turning point for me. The difference was that they really fought my insurance company and I could stay longer to really get the help that I needed. 

I’ve gotten mostly support. I have had someone come up to me and question my competency as an EMT because of my mental illness. My volunteer squad pulled me from riding because they were afraid I would crash the ambo in an attempt to kill myself. They don’t understand why they are wrong for saying that. They told me I was a danger. I’m not homicidal. I was suicidal in the hospital and was kept there while I was a danger to myself. And they discharged me when  wasn’t. So I am no longer a danger but they said, “You could be.” I haven’t had a history of presenting as dangerous on the job. I love volunteering there because I feel happy & safe. My paid job as an EMT told me I could come back whenever I wanted after my medical leave without any question. Eventually, the volunteer squad allowed me to start riding again once I went back to my paid job. But I got reprimanded for my attitude. It was hard to respect people after they said that to me so I started catching an attitude. I got to the point where I am riding with the people that I like and ignoring everyone else. Because I like doing it. I like volunteering for my community. I’ve been with them for 5 years. They trained me to be an EMT so it hurts to hear them saying things like that. It is just stigma. Maybe they’ll change their minds.

I am in the process of getting a service dog. I applied to an organization and got accepted. They are training a dog for me. They have a couple of puppies and they are going to find one that matches my personality. I like to be active. When I’m not depressed, I like to go out for a hike or a run. I think it’s gonna be a lab. Once they find that dog, they’ll task train it to me and I’ll go down for 2 weeks of training. The organization is called First Responder K9. They name the dog after a fallen First Responder. There is one dog I have my eye on right now. Her name is Kelly. She is named after a police officer who was shot in the line of duty. 

People have said to me, “You can’t help others before you help yourself.” And I disagree. For me, helping others gave me the strength to help myself. It gives me a purpose. If I were not an EMT, I would not be alive right now. It has saved my life. It gives me something to work towards. I can factually say that there are people alive right now because of me. That makes me feel good. When I think of my lowest moments I think there are more people out there that I can help. Without me, they lose their life, too. 

I still struggle sometimes. I have to work really hard to not engage in behaviors. I am at the point where I can work. I work a full time job. I can wear short sleeves for once. I can go for a run if I want to. I have to do something every day for my recovery. I have to make sure I wake up early and eat breakfast. I have to make sure I reach out to a friend to say hi so I don’t feel lonely. And do things every day to be productive.

I know my words, my story, can be very impactful to someone one day. If I stop now it’s a waste. I have to keep going. I have to help others. I have to be in a profession where I’m helping others. It’s saving my life, too.

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Anxiety Unmasked

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If you or a friend are struggling with thoughts of suicide and need someone safe & trustworthy to talk to call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline 24 hours a day.

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