I Need Your Help to Stay in Treatment
Donation protected
Here’s to Hope
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Kristina and I am an artist living in Seattle. I’m writing this today because like so many others I’ve been fighting my fiercest demons alone and in silence.
For me, anorexia has been a lifelong battle which started in fourth grade. I remember, with perfect clarity, panicking when I first hit 75lbs. In my case, and far too many others', anorexia is a coping and survival mechanism in response to trauma. My scars run the depths of my foundation and need longer to heal than I first anticipated. I am filled with so much pain that it feels impossibly hard to write this. I fear my heart will literally break and I am terrified people will laugh, sneer, or judge me. It destroys me, but I need help staying in treatment.
I am in my seventh week of full-time treatment for anorexia and PTSD. Without insurance the program would cost $1,200 per day. That is apparently the level of care it takes to deal with this. Thankfully that cost is covered but because treatment is full-time I am unable to work to support myself. I am on sick leave through the ADA but I love and I miss my job as a retail manager. My savings, credit, sick pay and vacation pay have all gone towards treatment. Now I’m out of options and time. I am already months behind on bills and not even able to make this months rent.
It is at times like these that most people turn to family for help. I am estranged from mine and don’t have the luxury of turning to anyone else for help but you.
My Financial Situation
This treatment program will require me to take at least 3 months off of work, after which I will be able to step down to a lower level of care and return to working part time.
My monthly cost of living for me and my two old lady fur babies (Cleo, 17 and Gypsy, 15) is just shy of $3,000. That covers rent, food, bills, prescription medication, student loans, credit cards, health insurance and therapy not covered by insurance. In addition to covering the costs during my time off work, my oldest old kitty needs insulin and fluids.
I’ve been doing everything I possibly can to stay in treatment, despite the constant and relentless financial obstacle. The money I ask for will go straight towards paying my bills and enable me to stay in treatment for ten more weeks.
A Glimpse of My Struggle
I’ve been in PHP (partial hospitalization program) at Opal since the beginning of October... I don’t really know how to articulate how things are going other than “OH MY F*****G GOD!”
Wow...
Boy, did I not know what I was signing up for... and I think that’s a good thing. I know help is needed, however, I didn’t realize how much was needed. I’ve NEVER had to sit with so many uncomfortable and intense feelings in my life. I have felt like a full blown addict and I’ve acted accordingly. Unbecomingly, many times. I’m meeting dark parts of me I’ve never known were down there dwelling in the depths. EVERYTHING is SO loud and screaming to never relinquish my control: “Everything will come undone at the seams, you’ll lose who you are as a person and an artist, you’ll never heal from that undoing” is just one example of a single thought in a sea of continual commentary. I should be honest with you guys and tell you that on my second day I quit, threw a big-ol-tantrum, signed my ass out and refused to move forward until I could meet with my entire treatment team. (It was a real Kristina-feeling-her-Leo-side moment to put it mildly). I’ll be honest again and say that wasn’t the last time. Oh the demons in me.... let me tell you.... again, just wow.
Going to this place in the morning takes EVERY F*****G ounce of strength I have and I promise that’s devoid of exaggeration. So, how do you explain how it’s going when it’s not exactly going well? It goes. Which is exactly what it needs to do right now. It goes. However, to end on a positive, I received “plus” status my second week which means I can pee and poo all on my own now!!! Here’s to stopping your whole fucking life and celebrating the small wins.
Thank You
If you are still here, thank you for sticking with me. And for those of you who are able to help, it means the world to me. My situation is urgent and your help is vital. Once again thank you. I'll leave you with this poem I wrote during my first week of treatment.
SHE SHAKES
she shakes.
she shakes and grabs at her body
out of desperation for control
she shakes.
she shakes out of fear that someone
will notice and see the true version
she shakes.
she shakes and rages and rages
and rages, she shakes because she feels
she shakes.
she shakes out of fear of
drowning in plain sight
she shakes.
she shakes and holds so tightly to her body
that the power of a black hole couldn’t break her grasp
she shakes.
she shakes.
For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Kristina and I am an artist living in Seattle. I’m writing this today because like so many others I’ve been fighting my fiercest demons alone and in silence.
For me, anorexia has been a lifelong battle which started in fourth grade. I remember, with perfect clarity, panicking when I first hit 75lbs. In my case, and far too many others', anorexia is a coping and survival mechanism in response to trauma. My scars run the depths of my foundation and need longer to heal than I first anticipated. I am filled with so much pain that it feels impossibly hard to write this. I fear my heart will literally break and I am terrified people will laugh, sneer, or judge me. It destroys me, but I need help staying in treatment.
I am in my seventh week of full-time treatment for anorexia and PTSD. Without insurance the program would cost $1,200 per day. That is apparently the level of care it takes to deal with this. Thankfully that cost is covered but because treatment is full-time I am unable to work to support myself. I am on sick leave through the ADA but I love and I miss my job as a retail manager. My savings, credit, sick pay and vacation pay have all gone towards treatment. Now I’m out of options and time. I am already months behind on bills and not even able to make this months rent.
It is at times like these that most people turn to family for help. I am estranged from mine and don’t have the luxury of turning to anyone else for help but you.
My Financial Situation
This treatment program will require me to take at least 3 months off of work, after which I will be able to step down to a lower level of care and return to working part time.
My monthly cost of living for me and my two old lady fur babies (Cleo, 17 and Gypsy, 15) is just shy of $3,000. That covers rent, food, bills, prescription medication, student loans, credit cards, health insurance and therapy not covered by insurance. In addition to covering the costs during my time off work, my oldest old kitty needs insulin and fluids.
I’ve been doing everything I possibly can to stay in treatment, despite the constant and relentless financial obstacle. The money I ask for will go straight towards paying my bills and enable me to stay in treatment for ten more weeks.
A Glimpse of My Struggle
I’ve been in PHP (partial hospitalization program) at Opal since the beginning of October... I don’t really know how to articulate how things are going other than “OH MY F*****G GOD!”
Wow...
Boy, did I not know what I was signing up for... and I think that’s a good thing. I know help is needed, however, I didn’t realize how much was needed. I’ve NEVER had to sit with so many uncomfortable and intense feelings in my life. I have felt like a full blown addict and I’ve acted accordingly. Unbecomingly, many times. I’m meeting dark parts of me I’ve never known were down there dwelling in the depths. EVERYTHING is SO loud and screaming to never relinquish my control: “Everything will come undone at the seams, you’ll lose who you are as a person and an artist, you’ll never heal from that undoing” is just one example of a single thought in a sea of continual commentary. I should be honest with you guys and tell you that on my second day I quit, threw a big-ol-tantrum, signed my ass out and refused to move forward until I could meet with my entire treatment team. (It was a real Kristina-feeling-her-Leo-side moment to put it mildly). I’ll be honest again and say that wasn’t the last time. Oh the demons in me.... let me tell you.... again, just wow.
Going to this place in the morning takes EVERY F*****G ounce of strength I have and I promise that’s devoid of exaggeration. So, how do you explain how it’s going when it’s not exactly going well? It goes. Which is exactly what it needs to do right now. It goes. However, to end on a positive, I received “plus” status my second week which means I can pee and poo all on my own now!!! Here’s to stopping your whole fucking life and celebrating the small wins.
Thank You
If you are still here, thank you for sticking with me. And for those of you who are able to help, it means the world to me. My situation is urgent and your help is vital. Once again thank you. I'll leave you with this poem I wrote during my first week of treatment.
SHE SHAKES
she shakes.
she shakes and grabs at her body
out of desperation for control
she shakes.
she shakes out of fear that someone
will notice and see the true version
she shakes.
she shakes and rages and rages
and rages, she shakes because she feels
she shakes.
she shakes out of fear of
drowning in plain sight
she shakes.
she shakes and holds so tightly to her body
that the power of a black hole couldn’t break her grasp
she shakes.
she shakes.
Organizer
Kristina Winn
Organizer
Seattle, WA