Everyone has had trouble with food in life at least once. I'm still struggling. It was so bad that I had to go to rehabilitation for it. Eating disorder rehab is never easy, and it sucks donkey cock, and there are some people who struggle, and a lot of people who come out on top. I wasn't one of those people. I went into rehabilitation knowing that I was going to be staying at the connections house. No outside meals, drinks or gum. No alcohol or drugs. No talk of food, no staring of food, no unwanted behaviors. No negative body talk.
It was like torture.
I only stayed for like a week before they told me to get out. I wasnt cooperating, sleeping on the couch (because they never give you enough time to fucking sleep!) complaining to the doctors, and not following the rules. Of course this isn't what they told me. They told me that I should work on my mental health first, and referred me to day programs for mentally retarded persons.
I wasn't mentally retarded, and i was fucking pissed.
I went and dipped. I took the elevator down to the first level and went outside to smoke. Why would they do that to me? They gave up on me. That's why. You didn't have to answer that, that's a rhetorical question.
My mom picked me up a day early.
I still am not over it to this day. I wish they knew what I was going through, I wish they had tried more. I wish they had understood; but sadly, this world doesn't need to work like that. It needs to be gritty and tough for you to make it, otherwise fucking die from a bulimic attack you landwhale, they'll say.
I wish things were different. If I had the choice to do it all again, I would.
