To be continued..

The sun is setting in its solitude beneath a bed of violet-stroked clouds as I sit here this evening, choking back the tears that never come and fighting a thousand thoughts wreaking havoc through my head, like a F5 tornado on a desolate little abode that stands alone atop its shamble of a hill. It has been quite the week. I would like to believe that it is what some would call a possible start, a step of action. However, part me of me just yearns for an ending of the book. The week began normally, school was a drag and as usual, my physical and mental states were both hanging on to stability by a wire-thin thread. It was not until Wednesday, after having to leave from school due to blacking out too constantly, that I began to fall apart. I had watched two of my biggest mentors cry as I talked to them that morning, worry wearing thick as thieves inside their welling eyes. Upon arriving back home, I felt that sense within my being, as I so often do, that I was going to die. It’s no secret—my weight and other health aspects have fallen to the point of danger. For the first time in a long time, I could not get off the floor. It caused me literal pain to stand, much less sit, and my chest burned deep with a hollow, vicious pain. Out of curiosity, I decided to check what the scales had to say—2.6 pounds in one and a half days..oh, now I wasn’t even trying for that, was I? “Of course you were you stupid child. Now get up and go run before your thighs get cellulite.” I stood there, sitting in the darkened living room of my vacant house, looking at my reflection in the antique wine cabinet by the couch. I saw the bruises, the bones, the awful crescents playing highlights beneath my eyes. I felt the way my stomach sunk in, the way I could fit my entire shrunken hand around my leg. Although still fully powerless in the present of the Voice’s thoughts, at that moment I truly recognized how sick I have become. It was in that second that I picked up my phone and made the biggest, most frightening decision I have ever made. My Thursday morning psychiatrist appointment came and resulted in two more medications to saturate my organs with: a prescription strength hormone-regulator for my migraines from lack of sleep and nutrition, and an alternate form of anti-depressant for the purpose of treating my anxiety and insomnia. My cabinet, where I stash my toothbrush and other bathroom commodities, has begun to resemble the shelves of a drug addict’s pantry. I laugh at the irony of this. After seventy-two hours of research, telephone calls, and absolutely no sleep, I finally disclosed my decision to my mom as I rode with her on a flower delivery: I am checking in to a Residential Eating Disorder Center. Mirasol, in Tuscan, Arizona, is a Residential Eating Disorder Treatment Center that takes a holistic, nature-focused approach to the treatment of eating disorders. Only housing eight patients at a time, the Hispanic-style home allows for a very personal and soothing environment in which one can regain a hold on their life. It took much back and forth fighting in my head, but after talking to the founder and CEO of the center, I made the decision that I need to do something. I need to stop losing weight, stop cutting, numbing with medication, stop living life as a corpse..or I am going to die. Some may find it ironically humorous that the suicidal anorexic is worried about dying. Life holds the most peculiar of paradoxes, eh? The cost of the treatment is going to cost $60,000 with a $1000 payment. The past few days have consisted of my parents’ bitter arguments with the banks and insurance companies that insist that my eating disorder is something that would be fixed if I would just “pick up the fork.” Unfortunately, until we can somehow manage to acquire a loan or a marvelous tree made of money sprouts in our kitchen sink, my departure will have to be delayed. My father has an appointment with a loan center tomorrow morning, and if it works out, then we should be able to pay the deposit early this week. After the deposit, I will be leaving sometime after May 18, and will not return until early-mid August. After returning, I will be home-schooling myself for my first semester of my senior year, and attending my college classes downtown, and I will still be permitted to graduate with the rest of my class. So, invariably, the only thing I am waiting on at the moment is the whole money issue. Part of me worries of what will happen if we cannot come up with the money. The other part prays for it all to fall through. Me? Frankly I am just scared to death.

~ by candyshele1204 on May 7, 2012.