I've been stuck in this place for a week and a girl already seems to hate me. I think her name is Rebecca. She doesn't seem to know how to keep her mouth shut. She always has something to say, whether people want to hear it or not. I don't say this to the therapist in front of me though. That will just open the gates to another unwanted conversation. Right now we're talking about my eating habits, the subject of every one of our conversations because apparently binging and then purging isn't good for me, or anybody for that matter. It's worked for me though. I'm the weight I want to be. My BMI is where I want it to be. I'm the top swimmer in my district, even if my district is a small, nowhere place in Ohio. But if everything is how it's supposed to be, why doesn't it ever meet my dad's expectations? Why am I never good enough for him?
"Why do you think that is?" my therapist says, pulling me out of my thoughts.
Shoot. I didn't mean to say that aloud. I pretend to not know what she's talking about. "Why do I think what is?" I reply with as much confusion as I can muster.
She sighs, knowing that I understood her the first time, but still repeats herself. "Why do you think you are not good enough for your dad?"
"I don't know. That's why I asked," I reply sharply. Today is not going well for me. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm never on edge. Usually I'm a chill guy. At this rate I'm never going to get my privileges. I'm never going to do anything, but stay contained in this building, this prison. I imagine myself in the pool. I really miss swimming. The feel of the water surrounding my body while I push myself to past my limits. When I'm swimming, I'm like a dolphin, free and one with the water. It's going to be a long time until I get to experience that again it seems.
Once again she sighs, pulling her thoughts together. I watch her figure out what she wants to tell me. I'm very observant. Always have been, always will be. Even though she's observing me, I'm observing her. This is our second session, but I've noticed several of her habits. Right as she's about to say something the timer goes off, signaling the end of our session.
"See you next week, Bradley," she says with a sincere expression before turning her attention to her iPad. Most likely she is writing about how foul my mood was today.
I resist the urge to run out of the room and jump for joy. Instead, somberly I head out, walking back to my room to kill time until dinner. Choosing a book off my desk, I lie down to read. I'm so thankful I have a single. The silence is nice, but sometimes I wish I had my turntable. At home when my stomach would start making noises, I would put on music to distract me so I couldn't hear the sounds of hunger. Otherwise, I'll get the urge to eat and once I start, I won't be able to control myself. I'll eat enough food for me and two other people. At this place I could use the audio equipment in the common room, but I don't feel in the mood to socialize. Plus my music taste is a bit eccentric. Someone will probably make me turn it off before the first song even finishes. So far I've only met one person I can tolerate. Her name is Kehlani. She's blunt when she talks, but hilarious. She's quite something.
I wake up to the sound of footsteps in my room.
"Time for dinner, Bradley," the nurse says.
Quickly, I wipe my eyes and follow her to the dining area. The nurse stands near me, hoping I'll eat something from my tray. There's no one near the table I chose, but I still feel uncomfortable.
"I'm not hungry," I say when I see her eyes trained on me. Unfortunately, my stomach betrays me and makes the slightest noise, which I'm pretty sure she catches because she raises an eyebrow at me.
"Please eat one item on your tray, Bradley," she says, her voice level, but I can tell she's frustrated. She's been watching me all week during meals. This week I've been taking small bites of something before asking if I can leave. It's enough that she'll let me go, but not enough that I'll lose control. The nurse has to stay with me though. It's to prevent me from purging, but it's hard to purge if you haven't really eaten anything.
Sitting at the table now, I don't want to eat with people watching, but my stomach is continuing to make noises. The last full meal I had was a few days before arriving here. Not able to hold back any longer, I eat the pasta, all of it. It tastes just how you can imagine cafeteria pasta to taste. The nurse makes a few marks on her iPad before asking if I want to eat anymore. I shake my head no before being pat down to make sure I'm not hiding anything.
"Can I go back to my room?" I plead, hoping she'll approve.
Of course, the answer is no. I can't be on my own for the next hour.
"Why don't you go to the common room with the others?" she suggests, nodding towards a group of girls headed to probably watch a chick flick.
Since I seem to have no other options, I agree. While I throw away my food and follow the group of girls to the common room, I can feel the nurses eyes on me, but I don't turn around. I continue walking. The urge to find a bathroom and empty my stomach builds. I didn't eat that much, but it was more food than I've eaten in a long time. How am I going to focus on a movie for two hours?
