Operation Skinny ✔️

CHAPTER 12: THERAPY

I looked at the full length mirror, unhappy with what I saw. But I quickly realized that I would never be happy with what I saw. I had to feign happiness. Fake it 'till you make it, they'd always said. My arms still looked large, my stomach still not flat enough, and the thigh-gap was not large enough. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. But honestly, I was just blessed and happy to be alive.

It had been months since my hospitalization and was now nearing the end of my junior year. I'd been on antidepressants for only half of those months, which Ji-ho hadn't been a fan of because it seemed I didn't care to spend time with him alone. It was a symptom that my doctor had warned me about, but I'd been able to turn things around in a matter of months. I was grateful; the doctor had called it a miraculous recovery.

I hadn't been able to walk for two weeks after my aneurysm, but miraculously, through lots of physical therapy and exercise... and Ji-ho's support, I was able to regain my strength.

I had been determined to change myself and my habits for the better. I didn't want anyone to suffer because of me, even if that meant taking a bit of my self-control away. But, I learned that taking away some of that stringent self control could be empowering.

The image I had formed in my mind— that only skinny girls could get the man was absolutely wrong. Ji-ho loved me for who I was and I reciprocated everything he gave. He was my soulmate, but, my story is not one of romance.

It's a struggle, a turbulent wind that knocked me off my feet and into the ocean. I'd been drowning for months until a friend pulled me out and saved my life. He did everything in his power to help me— it was quite the selfless act.

"Phoebe! It's so nice to see you again! Are you ready for our session this week?" My therapist had asked, holding the door to his office open.

It was funny actually; my parents were never believers that mental health could lead to such a debilitating physical ailment, but now, they were all for anything that would bring me back to normal. They constantly pointed out bay they wanted the bubbly, happy Phoebe to come back. And I wanted to deliver on that hope and make them worry less.

"Yes." I said, walking into the small office and taking my usual seat across from Dr. Brown. He was probably my favorite therapist out of the five I'd attempted going to. He was patient and gave very good advice when I'd asked for it.

"So, how are you feeling this week? Last time you mentioned that you wrote and erased No on a piece of paper, but we ran out of time so I would like to hear you elaborate on that. Then we can get into the matter of this week."

"I used to write it on my wrist everyday. It was like a reminder to stop eating. But, when I wrote it on that paper last week, I actually threw the paper away. It was a weird feeling because I'd wanted control for so long and yet, this felt like I was taking my life back full force when I saw it land in the trash. I felt like I got the freedom that I wanted and it was a nice feeling." I smiled, looking at him with my dark-brown eyes brighter than ever before.

"I'm very proud of you Phoebe," my therapist said and I was overwhelmed with joy. I couldn't stop smiling as he continued asking questions and I responded accordingly.

Our session continued on as I continued my conversation with my therapist. The topic had shifted to my childhood trauma and bullying and how my eating disorder had probably stemmed from my bullies and family. I didn't blame them, they didn't know that fat-shaming actually made me more likely to eat. They'd, at the time, had believed it would motivate me to start working out and losing weight— but everything I had done had failed.

I told my therapist that I started gaining weight the summer before sophomore year, when my parents moved from Tulsa (where all my friends lived) to McAlester Oklahoma. It was a big shift and I wasn't expecting to return to Tulsa to be with my friends again. Therefore, I had avoided everyone in McAlester in dire hope of returning home. It took ages for me to finally make a friend.

I told Dr. Brown that I felt like food had become a coping mechanisms and I hadn't even realized that I was gaining weight until it was too late. He, then, prescribed me a dietician and said that if anything happens, I should contact him immediately and he can send me back to a treatment center for a few months.

I'd enjoyed being at the treatment center, everyone was so kind and I had made many friends who were all suffering from the same problem. It was a nice way to want to get better, together.

My therapists last words before our session ended for today were: " I'm glad that you threw the 'no' away, but I want to ensure that you know it's important not to label foods as good or bad. Its okay to have a little desert. It's all about portion size and I hope you and Dr. Poring can talk all about it next week when you meet her. See you in two weeks Phoebe." I stood up and thanked him, walking outside to be met with the handsome square-jawed face of Ji-ho. It made my heart skip a beat.

He rushed over to me and lifted me up, planting a hair-raising, heart-stopping kiss on my lips as I held onto him. He always went with me to these therapy sessions and waited the entire hour outside. It was among many of the sweet and endearing things that he did, which I never had to ask for.

"Do you want to go to Braum's?" He asked. I stood beside him and we walked side-by-side, hand-in-hand. Two souls that had suffered together and were made stronger because of it. I couldn't stop smiling around him.

"No, I think mom wanted me to invite you over for dinner. She said she's making the stew that you like so much." I said as he grinned and kissed me again, sending shivers all the way down to my toes. "You've got to stop doing that if we plan on getting anywhere today." I laughed. Suffice to say, we spent half an hour making out before we finally went to my house.

Mom was waiting with the biggest smile on her face, maybe that's what happens when your daughter has a near-death experience: you start to care more and make her health a priority. I don't blame my parents for my illness, they didn't know. My parents had been way more sensitive in the way they spoke to me now and I was thankful that there were no longer any fat-shaming remarks.

They let me go out more with Ji-ho, something I was shocked to hear them allow since they had always been so strict and we were still in high-school.

She greeted us with warm hugs and kisses; she loved Ji-ho and often talked about how she was waiting on me to finally have babies so they could all look like Ji-ho. We entered and greeted my dad, all sitting down to eat with smiles on all our faces. Good conversation rang deep as we enjoyed the stew that mom had made.

I was happy, and even when I felt uncomfortable, I realized it was important to forge your own happiness. There shouldn't be something in the future to look forward to, my happiness was now and I'd work hard to stay alive and keep it that way.

[the end]