The Interesting Thing About Having Been Mentally Ill

Regardless of how much I talk about recovery, I tend to forget about the reality that I was once quite mentally disturbed. The reality is that having an eating disorder counts as having a chronic mental disorder. It wasn't just that I couldn't eat my food or look in the mirror. There were so many other things about me that were just different.

A big thing that has very slowly become evident to me is the loss of my victim complex. I no longer desire to have someone cater to me or baby me or even to really take care of me. Granted, I am quickly approaching my 25th birthday. I was barely 21 the last time that I met diagnostic criteria. Yet, I know that this isn't just maturity.

There is something fantastic about finally having someone in my life who has zero prior knowledge of who I was when I was sick. It is as though I get to completely shed the remnants of those thoroughly unappealing patterns of behavior. He could not imagine that there was once a time when I needed someone to bribe me to go and be social. Nor could he ever grasp the concept that someone once brought me the majority of my meals and medicine everyday. Or that I would make myself sick to get the affection that I felt I couldn't get any other way. The victim complex was strong in me. If I was sick, then I was cared about. If I wasn't, then nobody gave me a second thought.

Or at least that was how I perceived things when I had a chronic mental disorder.

Now, I won't even take his jacket if I was dumb enough to not bring my own. I won't ask him to run out and pick me up something. It has happened maybe twice in the past three months where I have actually asked him to do something that was, in my mind, my responsibility. I just don't like feeling as though someone is having to do things for me. I absolutely love the fact that I no longer need people to do a god damn thing for me. If I can do it alone, then I will. If I can't, then I will meekly ask for help.

I think that this aspect of my disorder was the most important to rid myself of. I had grown up in a house where my mother was bedridden for months to years on end. Even when she wasn't bedridden, she still required constant care. The role of a woman that had been modeled for me was that of a helpless creature incapacitated by pain. I followed her lead and soon found myself in an inpatient facility with people changing the toilet paper for me and asking me to count while I peed (etc.). The reality is that acting helpless will eventually make you helpless.

Recognizing that I could do things on my own again was only the first piece of the puzzle. The second was realizing that people would still show me love without my needing it. There is something so wonderful about being able to ask people for help now and knowing that it isn't an imposition. Knowing that they don't need me to convince them that I can be productive on my own. Not feeling as though friendships and relationships are in jeopardy if I can't keep up appearances. That is a huge component of recovery: relationships.

So you see, I was once very ill. There were plenty of problems in my processing of information and my relationships. I had huge errors in the way that I perceived the world around me. It took not being ill for a little while to see just how great it is to be healthy.