Tranquilize Me (A Mötley Crüe Story)

10.

A/N: had a weigh in today, I weigh 8 stones even. it doesn't seem like  a lot, but damn it's a lot better than where I was. I actually felt kind of proud of myself today for that. But the thing is, Anorexia recovery isn't lateral. You don't  wake up one day and gain 2 pounds a week, you don't just magically repair your relationship with food, and you don't just stop causing your body harm. I faced serious side effects, and it took years for me to get to this point, and even today I still find myself freaking out over calories, or skipping meals, so yeah, that was some really good news today.

it reminds me  of just how far I've come, and how much more I have to go.

Eating disorder help:

(713) 942-4100 (council on bulimia and anorexia recovery)

(201) 624-8937 (support for eating disorders)

(203) 724-9070 (helping a loved one with an eating disorder)

www.nationaleatingdisorders.org

If you have more sources please put them in the comments.

Tommy Lee

the constant beeping interrupts my thoughts as I slowly start to awaken. my throat burns and it feels like something is stuck. even behind my eyelids the lights are too bright. it's possible that I'm in the waiting room to hell. I hear rustling beside my bed, and work up the energy to crack my eyelids open, seeing two nurses messing with a machine.

I open my mouth to speak but my words are blocked by a tube in my throat, so instead i just try and lift my arm up, to signal that I'm awake. Even my own arm feels heavy, and it's like something is pushing me back onto the bed. I wonder where Nikki went? I can't see him. God, I hope he's okay...

"Oh! Tommy, good to see that you're awake!" A nurse chirps, placing her hand on my arm.

good to see you too, only I can't fucking speak lady.

she seems to be expecting an answer, which is pretty funny if you ask me. I'm more into waiting for an answer though, so I just cock my head and point to my bed.

"Oh! You went into cardiac arrest. Your heart couldn't take the strain of your body shutting down, we've managed to get something in you though." she says, pointing at the bag that leads directly into the feeding tube.

My panic starts to bubble up again as I stare at the tube. I grab the tube and trace it up to my nostrils, fighting the urge to give it a strong yank. I can't look away from it. it's searing itself into my brain, it feels like it's cutting off that brain circulation. 

"your parents came by while you were out, but they had to leave because your father had work." The nurse informs me, changing out the hanging drips.

I sit up and  nod, wondering why my chest feels so sore. I take a quick look down at my body and gasp. It all looks so weird. I barely even recognize myself. My body no longer looks like mine, instead I almost think it's someone elses body. 

Why can't I see my body for what it is, for what I am? Everybody else can, so WHY THE FUCK AM I THIS WAY?!

Nikki Sixx

Everything's consuming me, I've lost the control of my mind. It's like this drove me bat shit crazy. They've locked me back in a padded room, and I can see doctors come check on me every couple of minutes. I'm not willing to talk to them, because these are the same assholes who think I deserve to be fucking medicated out of my mind when I have outbursts.

"Nikki, Doctor Harris-" The med Tech Brandi starts, but she doesn't get to finish before I leap at her and push her away.

"FUCK YOU!" I cry, wiping away my tears away.

"Call in Nurse Thomas." I hear her shout into her walkie talkie as she falls against the padded wall.

The name Thomas short circuits me for a second. Tommy. I need to make sure that he's okay. The last thing I remember is a defibrillator failure. I snap my head back up, getting my bearings again. The nurse is coming toward me again, and this time I just let her approach me. She looks up at me, seeming a little nervous actually.

That makes me feel guilty. Despite the panic moments and violent episodes I have, hurting innocent people isn't my style. Now hurting assholes is my style. Brandi's actually been very nice. But I still need to get the fuck out of this fucking room. I can't breathe without Tommy, I just know somethings wrong with Tommy right now. I need him to be okay. My mental health depends on it too. I guess I suck at recognizing anorexia nervosa.

"Hi Mr. Feranna, I'm Thomas. I specialize in kids struggling with their anger." A man says, interrupting my racing thoughts to kneel down and shake my hand.

"Dude, just fuckin call me Nikki." I growl, yanking my hands away.

"Well, Nikki, I'm here to get you for group therapy."

"oh fucking goodie."

-------------------------

"...well I believe I'm finding God....He'll take care of me!" This dumb bitch named Kelly chirps, adjusting her blanket to wrap around her shoulders.

There's only so much of her bullshit I. can handle, especially her constant whinging over how "God this and God that". What kind of god lets people suffer so much? People are just looking for some kind of an explanation over how the world is the way it is. If anything, that's less comforting. Like this God lets children die of cancer and adults abuse their children, but I don't even know, maybe I'm wrong.

All I know is that this isn't right, none of this feels right. I want out, and I  want to live my fucking life.