Mirror Mirror Can't You See, What You Show Is Killing Me

Why Do I Still Write Honestly It's Horrid [Chapter 28]

Calorie count for today: 

I 

Don't 

Care 

I realize that for far too long I've been wavering on the edge of recovery. I've been saying, I'm going to get better! But then it only lasts a day or do before numbers burn themselves to the backs of my eyelids. This time will be different. It HAS to be. I don't want to go back to counting and crying and starving until my ribs are a ladder the demons climb to get to my mind.   

Plus, this time I have Dixie. She says she knows all the tricks to forgetting your fear, and living with a full stomach. Alexis said she'd try to get better, for us. She says she has a good feeling about us, and if we're recovering, it can't be all that bad. 

So we eat. Breakfast and dinner to start, she says we shouldn't overdo it. There's something that surprises me though. I haven't exploded yet. With all the food they've been putting in me, meal after meal, I thought for sure I'd swell and explode. But no, I just keep eating. 

Before, a bad day would be eating 500 calories in the entire day. Now I get that much, if not more, in breakfast alone. My therapist is happy, my friends are beyond delighted, and I'm hanging in there.This recovery stuff just might have something to it.  

This would be the point in someone else's story where they get closure, move on from their dead friends, and learn to live in the present. Unfortunately, real healing isn't like that. I know there's going to be good days and bad; times when I think I won't want to go on and days that feel like the sun breaking through the clouds. 

There's always going to be the chance of relapse, but I'm not going to live every second in fear of it. I've still got a ways to go, and I think I'm finally ready to face it. 

"Caia?" an orderly asks, "Are you ready for your call?" We get five-minute calls every week. My mom really wants me to call her, but I still don't think I'm quite ready for that. 

"Hello?" I hear, on the other end of the line. 

"Hey Ky, it's Caia. . . Calling from the hospital," I reply. 

"Caia cat!" I can almost hear his smile, "How are you?" 

"I'm doing a lot better. As much as I hate saying this, I'm glad they put me in again," I take a deep breath, cringing at my words. There's still some tiny part of me scared he'll leave if he knows I'm eating again. 

"My gosh, Caia that's amazing!" Ky gasps, "I'm so proud of you, this is great!" 

"You sure?" I mumble hesitantly.  

"Absolutely. I love you, and I only love you more now," he assures me. 

". . ."

"You're about to make fun of me for being stereotypical and cheesy again, aren't you?" Ky sighs. 

"You know it ya little cornflake," I laugh. 

"Pretty sure you're the cheeseball," he responds. 

"And you love me," I sang. 

"Always," he agrees, "And Caia?"

"Yes?"  

"Keep getting better, get out soon, and then I'll see you for real. When you get out we can talk more about this but-" 

BEEP BEEP. 

"Your time is up," An automated voice informs me. 

But it isn't really, not yet.