When I look back at my lowest weight, the only thing that sucked was the fear of the people around me. Them lying about me. The rumors. The constant talking behind my back. Everyone IP (regular psych floor) asking to switch to a different roommate than me because I sleep during the day or my hair loss is gross. Starting to eat again sucked because I went straight to severely binging and purging and got a nice MW tear.

The worst part of actually being at that weight and that experience was the psychotic pieces of thinking the nurse was narrating my every twitch, every toss, every turn, every puss, every cuss under my breath, the gurney that only existed in my mind was rolling down the hall and strapping every five minutes, not knowing if what I was thinking, hearing, seeing was real or not. When I started convulsing and didn’t know why. It was just anxiety. Really really bad anxiety from being TERRIFIED of the nurses there. Just thinking that’s where they sent me when the Ed got bad enough they had to do something just makes me want to never say a word about it to anyone irl ever again.

Feeding tubes weren’t comfy. Potassium drips stung a bit. (Those were not ED treatments but after some weeks long dissociative episode I still don’t know what happened). But I’d take those days and the days leading up to them (not that I remember them) over what Risperdal or Haldol did to me or the days at my dads den or god knows what happened when I went to West Virginia.