Outside the Lines (lashton)

(22)

"Hello Luke, I'm Kevin Maller, a specialist in eating disorders. How are you feeling?"

"I feel like I want people to stop asking me how I'm feeling," I reply in a frustrated tone.

He nods and chuckles a bit. What's with everyone chuckling? Does this seem like a situation that's full of humor? I grit my teeth further. I'm in the mood for any of this. I'm pulled to ask what's so funny? but decide against it.

"I'm here to assess you," he tells me, "to see the severity of your eating disorder and if there are any underlying disorders we need to bring to light."

"Sounds fun," I say sarcastically.

He sighs. "For this to work, you have to be open and honest. Can you do that for me?" he asks.

Now it's my turn to sigh. "I mean, what else do I have to lose? I'm already in the hospital," I say truthfully. Really, what do I have to lose? Nothing. Everyone knows my secret, I'm laying in a hospital bed where calories are being forced into me... I've really lost all control.

I voice my thoughts to Kevin, hoping he'll have some insight. Maybe it's time to reach out for help.

"What do you mean when you say you've lost all control?" he asks.

"I can't determine the amount of calories I can have, and I can't exercise with this tube in me," I tell him.

He rubs his arm before responding. "You see that as control, but are you really in control of the calories you decide to eat, the amount of exercise you do? Are you sure that's not your eating disorder?"

I lay still for a moment, no longer fidgeting with the cover laying on top of me. I'm pretty sure I'm in control. But if I was in control, would I be this miserable? I've viewed dying as being easier than continuing on like this but... I just can't stop. I can't stop limiting the calories I eat. I can't stop the want and need to lose weight.

That doesn't sound like control to me.

"Maybe you're right...," I say to him quietly. My mind decides to fight back viciously though. This is what you want. You want to lose weight. You want to not eat. This is what you've been working for. This is all yours, it's in your control.

I hold my hands to my head, wanting the conflicting thoughts to stop.

"Let's talk about your eating disorder, from the beginning," Kevin asks me. I'm glad he's asking me a question, I could use a distraction. Even if it has to do with my "eating disorder".

I tell him everything, because really, what do I have to lose now? I tell him how it started out as trying to be healthier, which turned into a small diet, which spiralled into something I could have never seen coming. He nods while writing things down on his clipboard.

"And why did you decide to eat healthier in the beginning?" he asks me. Which gets me thinking, why? It wasn't like I felt fat before, but maybe I did? It was such a long time ago from now that I don't even remember.

"I mean, I may have felt fat back then, but I really don't remember; it was such a long time ago." He nods again, scribbling things down on his clipboard.

Suddenly remembering something, I speak up. "Actually, I think this all started because I weighed myself and it was too much. Yeah, I remember now," I say, voicing my thoughts out loud, "I weighed 87 kilograms and it was too much. I gained four kilograms in four months to get me to 87 kilograms and I told myself I had to do something about it."

He looks confused before asking me, "Did you always weigh yourself, before the disorder appeared?" I cringe at the word disorder, still not use to it yet.