The Way We Get By

15 // Ramona

Alex's diagnosis was wrong, apparently. The way the hospital psychiatrist put it was that Alex doesn't have EDNOS, he really has anorexia.

I was skeptical at first, and so was Liam, considering that Alex's original therapist had said she was confident in her diagnosis. But according to the psychiatrist, Alex left out some information when he was talking to his original therapist.

Information that, due to client secrecy, the hospital psychiatrist couldn't tell Liam and I. But because of the sedatives that Alex was drugged up on, he gave the psychiatrist loads of new information that led to a change in his diagnosis.

All of this, paired with Liam and I's worries about how to get Alex efficient help, has led us to the doorstep of this group home—an inpatient facility for youth with eating disorders.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?"

Liam sighs from beside me, following my gaze up to the big, green house. It's situated on a residential street, blending in with the other quaint, peaceful homes around it. The only thing that makes it stick out is the sign in the front yard that reads: Home for Youth with Disordered Eating.

"I mean, do we have a choice?" Liam breathes, his warm breath forming a cloud against the chilly air.

"Well, it's either this or Greenridge."

I glance at Liam before bringing my eyes back to the house. Greenridge is the psychiatric hospital I was sent to when I tried to kill myself back in my teen years, and I went there again after college to get over my substance abuse.

While everyone there has always been wonderful and going there has helped me out a lot, it's not somewhere I'd want to put Alex. It's very hospital-like, and as his mother, I'm not convinced he'd do very well there.

So, by default, this big green house is our only other option that's close to home.

"We look like idiots standing here," I remark, gesturing to the sidewalk we've been standing on for the past few moments.

We've been ogling at the snow-covered house for a good couple of minutes while waiting for the other to get enough courage to step forward.

It's intimidating though—this really is our only hope.

Apparently, boys with eating disorders are starkly uncommon in comparison to girls. If Alex was a girl, we'd have countless rehab centers and recovery programs to choose from. But because many of those programs are specialized in treating girls, we're down to only Greenridge and this house.

"You're right," Liam agrees and places his hand around my bicep. "Let's just go."

I observe him as he steps forward towards the house, his boots grinding against the salt-covered cement. My own feet follow behind him and lead me up the steps to the front door.

We pause at the doorstep and stand there practically holding our breaths. The porch is large and wooden, housing a table and chairs on one side and a plastic chest with firewood on the other.

"So do we... knock?"

I eye Liam and share in his uncertainty and hesitation.

"I think. Just do it, I guess."

He carefully leans forward and raps on the heavy wooden door, pulling back his hand after a few taps.

There's no movement on the other side for a brief moment, although after a second of delay the door pulls open.

There's an older man on the other side, clad in a casual button-up and suit jacket. He greets us with a wide, professional smile and reaches out his hand to shake.