A little over two years ago I began embarking on getting into school for my PhD. I set my goals high, and enrolled in a nearby college to do my generals that were required for my impending PhD. It was the first time in a long time, nearly 3 years exact, that I was terrifically excited about. I longed to be a student again, to have the opportunity to learn all over again. This time it was a want, not a have, and I was beside the moon in anticipation.
I spent the first two weeks of May, organizing and shopping for the semester that would start around May 18th, 2014. I changed my bedding, I did extra food shopping, got my hair cut, and a myriad of little things which would be hard for me to do once I was in school fulltime. At about that time I started thinking about ‘routines.’ I knew I would need them to manage my school and other faacets of my life. I could have never guessed that the insidious disease anorexia, was planted at the very same time, as I gleefully pondered the impending routines.
I have admittedly been always obsessed with my body to some degree. Given my status as a division 1 full scholarship athlete, I viewed my body as both my temple and my machine. Of course now those days of elite training are far behind me, but I continually strive to stay fit and strong. Its allowed me to road race and compete in obstacle course racing. Both help to quell the competitive nature that roars inside of me.
So by May before I started at school, I already had begun to routinize my life. It stated every morning before 6:00 am, I would take my pug, Julia Bleu for a 5 mile walk. I was driven, determined, which later would add gasoline to my fire. I kept a tiny notebook handy, and jotted the date, time, the name of the route, and lastly most importantly at least to me; the complete time it took to complete. At some point in that window of time, I made the fateful decision to weigh myself everyday. I recorded the number right down to the hundredths, in the very right corner of the same notebook of exercise.
It doesn’t seem like much for sure, but trust I can trace the beginnings of my illness to then. It is amazing how quickly the mind and the body work in such unison. I believe for a fact, that my body almost expired in the midst of the storm that went so terribly wrong, because of the maligned wiring in my head, that quickly without warning the disease began to spread.
I started classes on May 18th, 2014. I couldn’t have been happier it was almost obscene. I was taking three classes and a seminar, to ease myself back into the rigors of school life. I believe it was the first morning after my very first classes, I woke up at 1;30 am and sprang from my bed. I was excited, I couldn’t wait to do my course work. I decided before I began for the day, to run to the store and get a coffee. Thus started the maniac’s hours as they have become to be known….out of nowhere my illness was building momentum. I sat at my desk on that first early morning, so excited so high, so absolutely blissed. I was comforted by my school goals I had set; a solid 4.0 GPA was all that I aspired. I promised myself I would work as hard as it possibly took; perfection was what I ultimately sought. From my body to my studies and everything in between, I viewed myself as nothing more than a machine.
One that first morning, I floated with shear determination and my will, to get as much work done as I possibly could. I worked right up until five am, weighed myself with the delight as the scale was moving down, and grabbed Julia Bleu’s leash and we continued on for our 5 mile walk. I can’t begin to tell you the high I FELT. I was fully blissed out, I was on cloud nine; it would in time only get better.
I continued with school, my maniac’s hours, my walking routine, and I added my prescription medication, my Adderall. I began to take it with my coffee. It developed into my ‘golden elixir’ the feelings I had during the maniac’s hours, were some of the best crazy, epic times I have encountered. Fueled by my golden elixir, I devoured my work with the ultimate concentration, I walked my pug, went to school and got perfect grades. The scales kept slowly going down day by day. For over two months, it remains one of my most momentous times. Living high off the power of my control, propelled with my ultimate perfection. I was Corey, I was in control, I was thriving all around.
I often think back to that magical time. Sure I miss it; it will never be the same. The next section of the story takes a turn, one unexpected and life-altering in hindsight. I will write again tomorrow, to continue my story. My hopes for this writing are mainly two parted: help others afflicted by this insidious disease, and say to my family and friends I am finally on the road to recovery. I am so sorry to all who suffered with me. But this story yet long, has a happy ending. Forever grateful to all those who loved and helped me.
BORN THIS WAY-2016