Sum of Parts

A lot happened in those twelve weeks.
I stopped all contact with family and friends, and my eating disorder was out of control. I wanted to be alone, and on several occasions, I pushed John to leave me. I lost hope, and I lost my faith in God.
It was near noon, in November, when my cell rang. I saw that it was the “E Division” psychologist. I confronted him as to why I hadn’t heard from anyone. Did he not know how serious my situation was?
“Well, you aren’t in a hurry are you, Kim?”

Thanks to John, I survived that day. He fought hard for me- phone call after phone call- until someone listened. Over the next 6 months, we flew down to the Lower Mainland, for weeklong, intensive EMDR (Rapid Eye Movement) sessions, acute Trauma and Eating Disorder therapy. I was also placed on several medications to ease my PTSD symptoms.
Unfortunately, it was not enough. By early July, I found myself in a lockdown unit at Homewood Health Centre, in Guelph, Ontario. During my therapy sessions, I absorbed the skills and tools I needed to manage my PTSD symptoms and Bulimia. I practiced them during “exposure therapy,” which included outings to restaurants, shopping malls and outdoor venues.
A chance meeting with a stranger in the park one day, changed my life. There, I met “Martin.” He wore a tattered suit and appeared disheveled, as he approached my bench.
“May I join you, Miss?”
Uncomfortably, I replied, “yes.”
Over several hours, I learned that Martin had been a professor at the local University, and that he had lost his job due to anxiety and behavioral issues. His marriage soon followed. Martin shared that he had attempted suicide twice and showed me the scars on his neck. How could this homeless man possibly be happy? I learned that the park was Martin’s home, and his place of “mission.” I connected with him- he “got” me. We laughed, we cried, and we hugged. He mentioned that my scars were my own lessons in life, to grow from them, and never look back. As I left, I asked Martin why he had come over to talk to me. His reply hit me hard.
“Nobody likes to see a dead body before breakfast, and today isn’t any different.”
He knew.
I left that park and never looked at my life the same way again.
Months later, I discharged from Homewood, and flew home to regain my life. After thirteen weeks of “graduated return to work,” and the return of symptoms, I chose to put my health first. I medically retired from the RCMP in March of 2019.
Since then, each morning, I give thanks to God, for sparing me. Meditation, music, writing, and the outdoors have all played a part in my recovery- as has forgiveness. Blame has no place here. Instead, I’m thankful. I still get triggered occasionally, but I am now medication-free. With hard work and utilizing the skills that I have learned along the way; I am proud to say- I have come full circle and I’m on the healing side of PTSD!