Where I Was Then....Remuda Ranch

So, I wasn't planning on having this series be quite so long. I originally had planned for a total of three posts, but I guess I'm a little more long-winded than I realize. I think I should be wrapping it up in the next couple of posts. We'll see. If it's getting just too long....let me know.
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I don't remember much at all about the drive to the airport or the flight out to Arizona. I only remember getting to the check-in counter at the airport and being asked by the person checking me in if I needed assistance in the plane from a flight attendant. She thought I was twelve years old. I indignantly informed her that, "No. I do not need assistance. I'm 20 years old!" Needless to say, I think she was quite embarrassed.

When arriving in Arizona, a representative from Remuda Ranch was standing at the gate holding a sign up with my name. The drive from the airport to the ranch was about 1.5 hours. It was a long ride for me. I didn't talk much to my "chauffer" and stared out the window most of the time taking in the sights of this state that I had not visited before. The highway was lined with cactuses. The land was dry. It was more than just a little hot and arid. I wasn't sure quite what to expect from this new adventure I was about to embark on. What I did know was that I was tired of being in the situation I was in. I was tired of being tired; tired of feeling like I was on the outside looking in. Tired of the constant struggle and battle that I was having with myself. Logically, I knew I needed to eat to live, but that struggle within myself and the fear of losing control was still there. The help I had received up to that point from my parents, from my nutritionist and from other people who cared about me, although appreciated, was not quite enough.

Trust was an issue for me at that point. Not trust in that I didn't trust the people that were helping me, but trust that the people who were trying to help me were trying to change me somehow. I was scared to leave this control I had established for myself; even though I knew at this point that the control was gone. But I was so exhausted that I was ready to be helped. I had established a relationship with the admissions counselor who admitted me to the Ranch and I felt safe going there, even though I had never met her in person. Somehow I knew and trusted that where I was going that I was going to be OK there. I felt less scared going there than I did to any college I had attempted up to that point. I know that part of that had to do with the fact that I was going to be taken care of. I had obviously not reached a point in my life where I felt confident enough in myself to be on my own; to be independent; and to feel like an adult who could manage life on her own.

One thing that I have learned throughout my experience and through watching the other people at the Ranch is that in order to really truly successfully beat the Anorexia/Bulimia/eating disordered monster, a person must want the help and be ready to accept it. Without that, truly trying to get someone help for it is useless. Sure, they can go to the hospital and get tubes put in them to force them to physically gain weight. They can go to all the therapists in the world, but until the person is ready for help and realizes that there is a problem, it won't truly be solved. I was ready for the help. I longed for the person I used to be; the happy-go-lucky, not a care in the world young woman I had left behind only two short years before.

When I arrived at the Ranch, I was in awe. The beauty of my surroundings was breath-taking. The Ranch sat on top of a hill in the foothills of a little town called Wickenburg, Arizona. From the highest point, I could look down and see the town and the beauty below me. There was a "main house" that housed the dining room, a large sitting room with a large screen TV and couches, and two or three residents rooms. Outside there was a beautiful porch and sitting area with a swing for relaxing. Below the main house was a housing area that consisted of about 10 rooms for more residents and below that were two small houses; one consisting of four more rooms and another that had two more bedrooms and the art room. There was a boarding house that housed about a dozen horses and a ring for riding the horses. There were two dogs that lived on the Ranch; one whom I remember was named "Ugly" because he was truly, well....ugly.


After I took my tour of the Ranch, I was introduced to my "big sister" Rachelle. Each new resident is given another resident to act as their "big sister" throughout their early days. Rachelle was very outgoing and very kind and made me feel at ease right away. Lucky for me, (tongue in cheek), I arrived just as the residents were getting ready to eat lunch. My first meal was pizza. As a new resident "enjoying" my first meal, I was given lee-way and was not forced to eat it and there were no penalties if I didn't. After that, all bets were off. At meal times, there are about four to a table and the table is monitored by a staff person. You are required to eat everything on your plate in the allotted time (1/2 hour) and if your meal is not completed within that time, then they give you a huge glass of Ensure to drink to suppliement the calores you did not consume with your meal. After meals, bathroom visits were also monitored by a staff person. (for obvious reasons).

There were four levels that you could achieve as a resident. With the graduation to each level, you were granted more priveleges. Very few people ever reached level four. As a new resident, you are automatically on Level 1. This level granted literally no privileges and you were monitored very closely. Level 4 allowed "free-reign" of the Ranch; the ability to walk around with no staff present and a seat at the "family style" table at meals where you were able to serve yourself food. Prior to sitting at the "family style" table your meals (which were custom made to each individuals needs) was sitting on a counter to be picked up as you enter the cafeteria.

My first few days at the Ranch were difficult. I had to complete all sorts of surveys, tests, visits with the staff doctor, psychiatrist and nutritionist. It wasn't until I was there for about three days before I got to get involved in the every day life of the Ranch. I also was not allowed to call my parents.

My feelings the first few days after observing the other residents made me feel like perhaps I didn't belong there. There were others there who were so obviously worse off than I was. I entered the Ranch right at 100 lbs. But there were girls there with feeding tubes up their noses, girls who were literal skeletons and sometimes I felt as I was walking around there being looked at like, "What is she doing here?!" I can honestly say that I was one of the "heavier" girls there. One girl, who ended up being my best friend at the Ranch was a mere 85 lbs. One girl took up to 200 laxatives a day. One girl had already been there for 3 months (the typical stay at the Ranch is six weeks). Some had been suffering with the disorder for the large majority of their lives. I was a "newbie" having only been in it for two years.

I soon became immersed in my life at the Ranch. Activities throughout the day included group therapy sessions, individual therapy, Equine therapy (we got our own horse and got to ride it twice a week; once in the ring, once throughout the hills surrounding the Ranch), Art Therapy, chapel, nutrition, and various others. We got weighed every single morning before breakfast. I began to slowly gain weight.

As time went by, I made some wonderful friends there. These girls were kindred spirits. They were going through the same thing I was and we understood eachother. I felt myself coming alive again. The unconditional love, acceptance and friendship I felt from every person I encountered at the Ranch was un-matched. I started to not care when I saw the numbers going up on the scale. I moved up in the various levels and when I was moved up to level 3, I got elected as "mayor" of the residents. This wasn't a huge responsibility, but a new mayor is elected every two weeks, and I got my turn. I made announcements at meals; I was in charge of finding big sisters for new incoming residents. I became one of the residents that the "new girls" looked up to when they arrived at the Ranch.

By the end of my six weeks at the Ranch, I felt like a new person. I felt loved, accepted, confident and more sure of myself. However, I didn't want to leave. I experienced some of my friends leaving and I was wishing I could just stay at this safe haven forever. But I couldn't. My therapist recommended that I move onto the new "half-way house" program they had started in Chandler, Arizona. This would be an additional 3 month program in which I lived in a neighborhood with several other residents; we continued with therapy programs, a nutritionist and could either get a job or go to school. It seemed like the perfect transition for me...

Part 5 Tomorrow: Beyond Remuda