Rega Mental Health Center,
7501 Wiles Road #105
Coral Springs, FL, 33067
"We've completed a number of psychiatric tests and are able to come to a trustable conclusion about specific diagnosis and where to go from here. My notes state that she was diagnosed with BED (binge eating disorder) back in mid 2017, which we've concluded plays a role in this first conclusion. We found evidence of tooth decay, which occurs when the high acid content of vomit comes in consistent contact with the teeth. Her throat has swelled significantly compared to where it should be based on her bodyweight. Her eyes are red, face is swelling as well and her heartbeat is fairly irregular. All these symptoms are consistent with those of bulimia nervosa. That's one diagnosis Dr. Espaillat called in a medical professional in for. I see here she was also diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder only a month following the BED diagnosis. That one appears to be consistent across the board. I can assume you're aware of the symptoms and requirements for that. We had her tested for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as well, and she scored 41%. So medically, we cannot diagnose her with PTSD even though she displays several symptoms. That is because she either doesn't display enough of the symptoms or they're not strong enough. The final test we ran was for BPD, which stands for Borderline Personality Disorder. The testing system for that is more complicated than a basic percentage. Essentially, the level of symptoms a patient has that matches those of BPD are measured in a number scale. 0-14 is unlikely, 15-19 is possible, 20-32 is likely, and 33+ is severe. The results came back as a score of 44. Dr. Espaillat can give you more details on what BPD is and how it affects the patient. We have a few different options for treatment. Prescribed medication is strongly recommended depending on the patient and in this case, we will most likely be performing psychotherapy. The doctor can explain that to you as well. However, we can't legally take action without your consent so I will give you time to think about it and discuss."
Mary O'Meally Corin and Dennis Corin sat in the consultant's office at Rega Mental Health Center. The two parents looked each other painfully in the eye. This was their baby, their only daughter. And the number of diagnosed complications she had just doubled.
My mom wanted to cry. Sitting next to my dad, just having heard the seriousness of her daughter's downfall, she felt like she failed me. Like she should've known.
"How could I have let this slip past me for such a long time?" she asked my dad, the guilt concealing her face.
"It's not your fault, Mary. She's a teenage girl. Any parent could be in the same position. It's normal for teenagers to want to keep this kind of thing from their parents. She's embarrassed."
"She's been shoving her fingers down her own throat and God knows how long, Dennis! She was lying in bed for weeks. We got Steven to come home just so she would talk to somebody. I should've been looking out for her."
"That's all we can do now" my dad concluded.
There began the daily medication and weekly therapy sessions.
The night I was diagnosed, August 8th, I was tired. But I went and joined my friends at the beach after anyway. When I left the house, my mom was acting like I was heading out to jump off a bridge or something. Honestly, she might've thought I was.
So yeah, I had been diagnosed with Binge Eating Disorder in 2017. As well as Generalized Anxiety Disorder. But that didn't really define me. All it meant was that I loved eating more than breathing and had a severe case of anxiety. What modern American teenager didn't spend their life eating and stressing?
But the new diagnoses felt like they defined me. I already knew I was bulimic. Duh. I had been for over a year now. I had just been outstanding at hiding it. My parents had no idea. My friends had no idea. Nobody had any idea. I was such a great faker, I had everyone believing I was the worst faker to possibly walk the earth. And honestly, I still do.
I came this close to becoming a formal PTSD survivor. 41%. That wasn't much worse than the score I got on my math final exam, the one I spent doing nothing but trying to add up Chase's bullshit instead of what the question was actually asking me to do. But Borderline Personality Disorder? It sounded like something was wrong with me. Like I had a birth defect, a mutation, like something was fucked up about the way I existed.
Suddenly, I wasn't a stressed out teen girl who loved to eat. I was a stressed out teen girl who loved to eat, had a purging problem, nearly suffered PTSD, had a formal personality disorder and fucked up by letting this happen to her.
When I arrived at the beach and found my friends, I put on my happy face. It would be less painful if I didn't look the mentally unstable part. If they couldn't see it, how could it matter?
Everyone greeted me with happy smiles, asking how therapy went.
"You look tired" Cameron said, sitting next to his girlfriend.
"I'm fine. I did a lot of testing. I have some stupid personality disorder. I don't remember what it's called, it's like a mood swings thing" I rambled.
"Borderline Personality Disorder?" someone asked.
"Yeah, that's it!" my energy spiked up for a bleak second.
We stood on the ledge above the water, watching the waves crashing against it when Emma came up.
"Hey, muffin bug" I said, wrapping my arms around her neck.
Everyone was still talking about me, trying to pry information I wasn't listening to from my head.
"Wait did you say borderline?" Emma interrupted.
"Borderline Personality Disorder. She got diagnosed tonight" Jensen said.
"Do you know how serious that is?" Emma turned her attention to me, contradicting with the previous remarks of everyone else who all claimed that it was 'fairly common.'
"It's not that big a deal" I said.
"Oh my god" she said, taking me and pulling me away from the rest of the group.
"Danny had borderline personality disorder!" she whispered sharply.
"You're lying. You're trying to make me feel bad" I retaliated, refusing to believe I was anything like Danny Murphy.
"Well it's true."
"Liar."
I stormed off to join the rest of the group, avoiding direct eye contact with Emma at any given time.
After that day, I spent countless hours in psychotherapy and every morning, afternoon, evening and night taking multiples forms of medication for multiple different disorders.
Weeks went by, and eventually the day to go to camp came around. I had to see the medic everyday at camp. And everyone knew it. I only told people about the medication that I had to take before getting my wisdom teeth removed, which was happening the day after camp.
Over time, I think I've gotten better. My doctor says that my BPD symptoms are weakening and my mood is generally higher than it had been the day of my many diagnoses.
Sometimes, I still think of Chase. I wonder where he is, what he's doing, how he's doing. When I'm trying to sleep at night, my brain takes me back to that paralyzing moment at the end of my bed where Chase kissed me. I have dreams where we see each other again. I still couldn't function if I had to go to any location that was significant in our story. Either of the swimming pools, the badminton court. There are more that I can't remember right now. There are moments I won't ever forget. I don't think I'll even think about dating or getting involved with anyone for the rest of high school. I don't know that I'll ever be able to fully recover from what Chase did to me, but I do feel better almost everyday. I know I'm not as much of a wreck as I used to be. I bombed that math final that day, and I don't think I'm in so deep anymore that I won't be able to focus in school when we go back in a week.
Maybe it just seems that way now. Maybe I will fully recover from this someday, somehow. Maybe the idea of kissing another human being won't trigger me back into this tragic mental state. I still can't go a day without thinking about or even talking about Chase. But maybe someday, I will.
Maybe this isn't the end for me, perhaps it's only the beginning.
