They Told You To Stay Away (Jalex)

Tearing up at the seams

Chapter Fifteen
Title from Poppin' Champagne by All Time Low.

"Get on the scale facing backwards" Dr.Mullins instructed as I stood in the middle of the room, all of my clothes laying on the floor beside me.

"Why backwards?" I asked, stepping on the way he told me.

"We don't let eating disorder patients see their weight" he said simply. A moment later he wrote something on the clipboard.

"Are you taking points?" I asked, nosily, needing to know my weight.

"No, just writing your weight down" he answered.

That means I didn't lose weight. Why do I feel guilty about that? I almost died.

I started to put my clothes back on, looking at my body as I did. I don't look any bigger. Wait, maybe I do. I pinched at the fat on my stomach. Shit. I felt tears sting my eyes, and it only made things worse.

It's so hard not to cry when i'm forced to eat three meals a day.

I've been tube fed four times this week, which is terrible because it makes my nose and throat hurt, and it's giving me so many calories that I don't know. I barley eat half of my food, but sometimes the nurse lets me pass with it.

My secret is that i've managed to throw up a handful of times at night while everyone was sleeping. When I got my clothes on, Dr.Mullins told me I was good to go, and I went.

As soon as I got in my room, I let myself cry. I crawled under the blankets, knowing that Zack will probably be in here soon. I let silent sobs consume me, and I started to feel more light headed the longer I cried.

I don't feel better. In my head I feel so much worse. I feel upset and angry and depressed, and anxious about eating. I feel so terrible about everything.

I feel like I can feel every pound I gain.

My body is stronger, I don't feel like passing out everytime I stand, but Dr.Grace was right about the tube feeding. My metabolism is up, which means my body expects food from me, and I get hungry. I feel hungry when I have food in front of me, but just thinking about it makes me feel sick all over again.

I'm tearing up at the seams, and there's nothing I can do to make it hurt any less.

"Hey man, are you alright?" I jumped as I heard the voice of my roommate.

No, i'm not alright.

I glance up at him over my shoulder and turn back around to face the wall. Not answering.

"I know you don't talk much, I know you don't want to talk in the group therapies and stuff like that, all of us feel the same way about it" he said and paused "We're in here to get better. To talk and interact in a place full of people who actually understand and listen to us, the sooner you realize that the sooner you'll be able to talk in therapy and get better. Then you'll be out of here" he said.

No. He doesn't understand me, and none of them understand me. He doesn't know how I feel, and how terrible I feel to be gaining weight.

I appreciate him trying to help me, but I can't put anything on him. I can't be friends with him, I know how much stress I could put on friends. I would just be making their issues worse. I also can't even think about my own weight, I don't want anyone to know whats wrong with me. They would see me for what i've done to myself.

I can't let them know what's wrong with me, and I need them to stop trying to figure it out.

"Maybe I can help, I-"

"I don't want your help, I don't need you to tell me how to get out. Just leave me alone" I snapped, not wanting to see the look on his face. Not wanting to see him. I need him to stop worrying about me. I don't need a friend, or someone to help me, I need him to stay away.

It didn't take long for me to realize that he left the room.

***

"Jack, why won't you participate in group therapy?" Dr.Grace asked for the thousandth time.

I shrugged. Of course, it became my signature move.

"Do you realize that we can't even consider releasing you until you're able to participate in group therapy? and personal therapy?" she asked, sighing as she leaned back in her chair.

I nodded. I guess I'll be here forever then.

"How are you feeling right now?" she resorted.

"Tired" I answered, watching her look proud of herself.

"Tired? Are you not getting enough sleep?" she asked.

"I am" I replied, looking down at my shoes and back at her.

"Then what are you tired of?" she asked, pressing my single answer.

"You" I replied, watching her face go red.

She stayed silent for another few minutes. "Zack told Dr.Mullins that you told him to leave him alone earlier. Why?" she asked.

Is Dr.Mullins even allowed to share what Zack says to anyone else? No, I really don't think so.

"Because he's a prying asshole that just wants to know whats wrong with me so he can tell everyone else in here" I snapped, feeling defensive. Defensive over myself, over my actions. I don't care if they think I'm an asshole, thats probably for the best.

"You can't think that everytime someone wants to befriend you they're going to do something to hurt you" she said, reasoning "Is there a reason why you resort to that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as if she just figured out my whole story. She knows nothing of it.

"Did someone that you trusted do something to hurt you?" she asked, leaning forward on her desk.

"I wasn't raped" I spat, knowing that it's exactly what she was thinking.

She blinked hard, but remained eye contact. "Were you molested?"

I sat back.
How blunt can she be?

She looked acomplished. Proud of herself, and it makes me sick.

"Were you molested?" she asked in a different tone this time.

I rolled my eyes at her, and kept my arms crossed over my chest. She's almost the worst therapist I can imagine. It's all questions, no relation.

"were you-"

"I don't know" I spat "and I don't care. That isn't what fucked me up" I said, feeling tearful for no reason. Absolutely no reason.

Danny. Danny played the biggest part in the way things started. It isn't his fault, and no matter how bad of a person he is, I can't pin him with the blame. Danny's name will never be one to come out of my mouth in here, especially not to her.

I took a deep breath.

"So you were?" she asked.

I rolled my eyes, feeling even more angry at her. How does she thinks that it makes people feel when she demands things from them?

"Can I switch therapists?" I asked.

I feel like a therapist like Dr.Stump would actually help, or consider my feelings. I might not eat, but that isn't what all of my problems consist of, and I don't need her to make me feel worse about being slow to start talking.

Is Dr.Stump even a therapist? I've only seen him up here to feed me with the nose tube.

"No, i'm afriad not. The psychiatrists in this hospital are assigned to patients according to what they came here to recover from" she answered, giving me an offended look.

Bummer.

A few minutes passed before she looked down at her watch "Alright, well I'll see you in our next group. Okay?" she said. I immediately got up and got out of her room, walking back to mine accompanied by nurse Jett.

When I sat down on my bed, I felt more overwhelmed than I did before therapy. I have new things on my mind, things I haven't thought about in months.

Things only feel worse.