The Lies We Told On Thursday Nights

44. Tuesday: 6 Questions (Emery)

So, I had a major dilemma in writing this. I wanted the whole chapter to be about one of the patients to mention Levi and Emery begins thinking about Levi and talking about how she loves him. But, that didn't feel right. 

This is not a romance story; it's not about young love. It's about teenage struggle and mental health challenges. In this chapter, Emery isn't just a girl stuck in some hospital waiting to hear from a boy...she's a girl who has been in pain and has landed herself in an eating disorder ward...her relationship with her family and her world altered.

Therefore, I re-wrote the chapter to be mainly about her life and emotions in the ward, but time and it still is vital to the plot.

Also, sorry the chapter is late. I was working on the past few days, but where I live, there was a bad fire, so everything was in chaos. All is well tho.

ALSO: I'm in a place with little internet, so I'm using a hotspot...that means I'm rushing editing and posting this chapter; so sorry.

Emery

Tuesday (maybe XD) 12:21 pm

I don't know if you've ever felt helpless, not just the "I don't know what to do helpless," but the can't control anything. I can't monitor my grades that were plummeting like a heavyweight off a cliff from all my absences and my body was reacting terrifyingly to the feeding tube.

And to make matters worse, I was in a place where there was nothing I could do but follow the rules, which is usually easy for me, but these rules were different. This situation was different.

After. Being stabilized, I was sent to the psych ED ward. I don't remember much of the past three days, everything in a painful glazy blur of white coats, teary eyes, and harsh words.

It wasn't until yesterday around 1 pm (I think, because it was before private room time) that I lost it.

Completely lost it, I broke down sobbing in the hallway, curled in a fetal position.

It felt weird to break down, no not weird. Me crying at night was weird, me failing my tests were weird. But lying on the floor, flailing my arms until everything ached and stung and screaming until I couldn't breathe. It felt like dying.

Which on retrospect, is odd because, according to my cardiologist, gastrologist, and emergency nurse...I already knew what dying felt like.

Despite my grandiloquent attitude, I've hardly muttered a word to anybody. I was scared to speak up. This wasn't a class, I wasn't superior, I wasn't successful, I wasn't in control. I was the new girl whose name was 12.7.

But I've had a lot of time to think. Not about tests and homework assignments. And not about my body because I haven't seen a mirror in days.

So I've been thinking about everything that has happened in the past week. The ghostly, hollow feeling of numbness littered by the sharp pains of hunger and defeat.

The psychiatrist asked me what was on my mind, what was bothering me. I answered with a meek: everything.

I used to have a therapist but then money began running tight, I gave her up.

However, this therapy session was not like the other one.

First off, I wasn't on a lounge chair, I was on a hard uncomfortable bed. There wasn't a warm ambiance either, just highly bright lights and symmetrical drawers§even the blue wall (meant to add color) made me claustrophobic.