Most months of the year are demarcated by an ED anniversary of some sort. They range from "this marks X years since the ED started" to "this marks the anniversary of the day I was at my lowest weight" to "this marks the last time I was hospitalized for the ED." I don't spend my days thinking about these anniversaries, but I'm usually aware of them.

This year, one of these anniversaries completely passed me by.

A brief history: three years ago, I was more depressed than I had ever been in my life. I wasn't sleeping, I was barely functioning, the AN was raging, and I had had it. I lost hope that I would ever recover, and on November 30, 2006, I tried to end it all. My parents found me in time, and I was rushed to the local hospital where I spent several days in the Critical Care Unit, and then two more weeks in the psych unit, followed by a month in a day treatment program until insurance kicked me out.

Even today, life isn't always unicorns pooping rainbows. Mostly, I'm glad I survived. Mostly, I hold out hope for recovery. Mostly, I still really hate the month of December.

This year, however, the beginning of December arrived pretty much without notice. I dated my checks with a "12" instead of an "11," but that was the end of that. I was busy packing, and I found out some really good news related to writing (I'm not trying to be obtuse, but I can't quite talk about it yet. I promise I will update everyone as soon as I get the go ahead to open my big mouth.), and the day went completely unnoticed. It wasn't until I was driving today and thinking of another December anniversary (my last admission to residential treatment- I wasn't kidding when I said I really hated December), that I remembered this one had completely passed me by.

The aftermath of my overdose was part of what led to this blog--this doesn't leave me grateful for my experience, but I suppose it does help alleviate some of the negative that surrounds it. I have been too close, too often, to being just another AN statistic, and much of this anger at my ineffective initial treatments (for the first 6.5 years of my ED) is what ultimately fuels my advocacy work. Like they said in "The Lion King," it's the circle of life.