By Mary Elizabeth Van Pelt on March 12th, 2010
People ask me, “How did it begin?” And then they want to know, “How did you get over it?”
They want a quick-fix answer, like a little blue pill, and rarely have time for the real answer: It was a journey.
Anorexia doesn’t have a clean date of onset, like a date of birth; it was a long, slow process getting in and equally challenging to get out. I can tell you the date when I weighed seventy-four pounds, the date I started seeing the psychiatrist, and the date when I believed my only way out was, in a blind rage, to eat-myself-to-death. It was a long journey, a slow process, and a big part of the person I am now, although I have no physical scars to show you as proof of my endurance, battles fought and battles won.
By Mary Elizabeth Van Pelt on February 23rd, 2010
Five years ago my life changed dramatically when I experienced job discrimination based on my diagnosis. I was forty-five years old with a college degree and twenty years experience in the field of Human Services. I pursued help from the Americans With Disabilities Act and was referred from one person to another until, six months later, I ended up where I began. I learned that people with physical impairments such as the deaf, blind, mobility impaired, or developmentally disabled have won more legal ground than people diagnosed with mental illness.I live in a small rural community where there is much competition in a limited job market. After discrimination ended my career I sought help from many agencies including Job Services and Vocational Rehabilitation. I was offered a series of minimum wage jobs, dishwasher and fast food clerk, the kind of unskilled labor I did before graduating from college. One employer, in a shadowy attempt to offer hope, explained to me that I should think of these jobs as “a bridge” to something better. “I’ve already crossed four bridges,” I replied. It felt like the bridges were taking me backward, not forward.