I've Got It Under Control

sixteen

But it wasn't the scales you picked up Jules. Oh no. It's the real deal, Jules was confused, why weren't they using them? "Okay, follow me into this room please." Doctor Finlay pointed to the opposite room.

He was now in possession of Jules's files that Tom once held close to his chest. She climbed off the bed, looking at Tom nervously who was now holding the door open with his back. They walked to the opposite room, a large scale awaited. It towered over Jules, she felt as though the whole room was shaking and spinning. The scales had completely determined her life. This was her control. She had control. Well, she believed she had control. But now that she was in a psychiatric ward does she really? She wasn't in control anymore, she was surrounded by people who were in control. Of her. Jules never had a grip on her life. But now more than ever, control was stripped away from her.

Jules gulped. Stood in the doorway of the dreaded weighing room. Calm down, Jules. We don't want another situation like earlier. Oh, how she longed to see her weight, but she didn't want others to know. "You won't be seeing your weight if that is what you are worried about Jules, it is a blind weighing." Tom reminded her quietly.

"Can you turn around and step on the scales for me please." Doctor Finlay said frustrated. Cold chills sunk through her body, her hairs stood up, and a tingling feeling walked up and down her spine. She could feel her stomach sinking as it filled with anxious butterflies. Jules forced herself to turn around, now staring at Tom who was blocking the doorway. Jules didn't think she could do it. She didn't want to.

"If you don't do this, you will be forced to be put on the scales." Doctor Finlay said more kindly this time, maybe because he could see that Jules was trying so hard. Jules knew about this, she could be sectioned to eat and to be weighed and anything else they believe would be necessary. This was her worst nightmare. Do you think they will physically force her onto the scales? This hurt Jules, not even a day into the psychiatric ward and she could possibly be sectioned. It felt as though she had swallowed a mouthful of pins, the sharp pains in her limbs, the aching chest pains that now fight her anxious body was almost too much to take. Tom now turned outwards to the corridor, signalling a female support worker to step into the room. The pressure was on, you either step on the scales Jules or you will be forced on there. Doctor Finlay stood leaning against the scales which included your height measurements.

The area in which the weight would be displayed was now covered with a piece of paper, the urge Jules had to rip it off and see the weight became almost unbearable. "1 minute Jules. If you aren't on those scales I will have to force you on there, and I really don't want to do that." Doctor Finlay announced.

Okay. Okay, Jules. Times up love. Time to step on the floor of lava that is known as scales. She stepped on the scales, facing away from it staring at Tom with tears now soaking her face. He wasn't smiling anymore, he was looking at the concerned face of the doctor, knowing all too well by the appearance of Jules that the number would not be good. In fact, the number was so dangerously small, everyone would be surprised that she was still standing. Jules snapped her head to the side, attempting to see the weight, obsessed with knowing the number.

Number. It's just a number. Number. That has controlled Jules's life. Number. Jules so desperately wanted to know. Number. That determined her food intake. Number. She did maths every day, counting the calories that she never kept down. Number. That now forced her to be an inpatient. Number. A depressing number that shouldn't bother Jules, or any teenager or adult for that matter. Number. I'm sorry that these numbers have become your life. Number. The obsession with an insignificant number is ruining your life. Number.

She reached for the paper. Doctor Finlay snapping his hand up to stop it. The support worker grabbed her other arm, trying to convince Jules off the scales. She screamed a blood-curdling scream. She was broken. She was hurting. She wanted comfort, control. That number gave it to her. Now she wasn't even allowed to see it. Control. Control. Control. Goodbye control. See you never.

The best way to describe an eating disorder is by making a connection with a blanket. An eating disorder is a blanket you wrap around yourself on a cold day. It makes you feel safe, warm, and comfortable, you are secure with this blanket around you. But you get used to it. When the weather changes, you can't take it off, you realise you are stuck with it, it's stitched to you. The feeling of suffocation and entrapment surrounds you now. It is like when you put your head under the blanket, at first you are fine, it's warm and cosy, but then you feel like your breathing is becoming restricted and it's getting unbearable. So what once helped you, now makes you feel worse, you feeling like there is no escape.

Tom closed the door securing the panicked Jules into the room that now feels like it is barricading in. She so desperately wanted to know her weight, but she was even more triggered that Doctor Finlay now knew it and she didn't. She pushed the support worker out of the way, fighting off her strong grip. The doctor stood there unfazed, Tom was calmly saying her name, trying to settle her down. Jules felt the rush of anger filling her body, an explosion of heat rising as her body took the blame for all of her built-up frustration. Her knees buckled as the female nurse pressured her to the floor, to stop her from lashing out again.

"FUCK YOU!" She screamed at Doctor Finlay. I don't know why she was so mad at him, but she was. It's not his fault, he had to weigh her. It's not his fault that she was in a psychiatric ward. It's not his fault. It's Jules's. You are to blame. All this pain you feel Jules. This is all your fault.

"Now that's not very nice, is it?" Doctor Finlay said patronisingly. "Are we going to relax and go back into the other room?" The doctor said as Tom was now crouched down on the floor, he was the secure figure Jules needed, that blanket that makes her feel safe, the blanket that was once the eating disorder. She squeezed her knees up to her chest, looking over at Tom who was whispering soft, comforting words. Jules was just being difficult. She pushed her weak body up from the ground, using Tom as support, deep emotions and frustration stirs with no other outlet but through her long-lasting sobs. Tears spilt over and flowed down her face like a river escaping a dam.

No wonder Jules was in a state of turmoil, she had lost everything this past week, her freedom was gone and she was forced into situations like no other. She was clearly terrified, she just wanted that power back that she once had. But it was gone, and the psychiatric ward made that clear to her.