"Weren't you scared?"
No.
"Terrified."
Lie.
I curiously wondered to myself what they would think if I were to be blatantly honest. Crazy, I'm sure. Then again, they think I'm crazy anyway.1
Friday, the 18th of January, I had been on a bed in the nurses office, shielded from view from any other student. The nurse was running in a frantic hurry. I never quite understood her panic, constantly moving, telling children not to bug her with their dramatic "stomach pains," for she was far too busy with a more important situation. As she rushed around, I stared at the ceiling for as long as I could keep my eyes open. Thirty-two ceiling tiles, I think, my numbers were a little blurry.
In the midst of her panic, she graciously found time to fill me in on what was going on. I had, apparently, blacked out while running in gym, and was unresponsive for over five minutes. This, I do not remember. I do remember being in a wheelchair, coming from the gymnasium, but the happenings that had occurred before-hand, were lost.
She reached for my hand and looked at the monitor she had placed on my finger, giving a great big sigh before looking at me. Worry showed clear as day, even radiated off of her body.
Stop looking at me.
"Can you tell me what happened? Do you remember?"
I didn't want to speak at first. My body felt weak, incredibly weak, but I was shaking so badly. I shook my head before closing my eyes again. The room was spinning.
"Have you eaten today?"
Always food.
"No."
"Are you taking anything that might have caused you to pass out or anything?"
She thought I was on drugs, I'm sure. Which, on some levels, was true. I live off of caffeine. That morning I had an energy drink, caffeine pill, and a starbucks latte, which equated to about six grams of caffeine. No big deal, I had done more before. Also, a gram and the only ninety calories of that did not count. They had been purged, and therefore did not exist. Of course, now that the thought passed once more through my mind, a panic began to take over. Had I gotten rid of it all? How many calories had my body absorbed before I had gotten to it?
I told her of my energy drink, and persisted that I was fine, just stressed out, I just wanted to rest and then go back to class.
I really just wanted the room to stop spinning.
"Your pulse is high. Too high." She held up her fingers less then an inch apart, "You were this close to having a heart-attack."
I was quiet. I closed my eyes, and took as deep a breath as I could manage.
Apparently, at sixteen, I had almost died of a heart-attack.2
3
My pulse now is at a pathetic 49, my heart is not currently about to implode out of my chest, and for that, I'm relatively thankful, only because it's an uncomfortable feeling.
Through all the emotions I felt while lying on that horrible bed, a fear of death was not among them. I was terrified though. Terrified of losing, of change that might, and eventually did, happen. Death was the least of my worries, if anything, I felt disappointed that I had not yet expired, that I was still alive, breathing.
I did not tell anyone how, while the nurse went back to frantically running about, I prayed that I would die. I did not tell anyone about how I held my breath in attempt to make my heart work harder, in hopes it would just give up it's fight and let me go. I did not tell anyone that the reason I cried after she told me, was not the fact that I realized I was close to death, but for the fact that I was saved from it.
I did not tell.
I did tell my family, however, that I was, truly, afraid, and that I was going to change my ways. The threat of a heart attack had been my "wake up call" and I am working to become a new person.
Lie again.4
I have moments where I scribble in my journal, pages upon pages of what I'm going to do to make myself "healthy" again. I'll swear on my life (which, I admit, I do not place any amount of value on) that I will never purge again. If I actually kept the commitments I made to myself, I should've died many times. Typically that "health high" lasts for maybe two hours, a few more if I'm lucky, then I break.
I'm not a strong person, contrary to popular opinion. I break, shatter, and crumble as quickly and easily as fine glass. They tell me that I'm so strong to have gone through my experiences; they say they wouldn't have made it out alive like I have.
Is this living?
I have an obsession. I count every calorie that enters my mouth, if I eat less than three hundred, I'm almost tolerable for the day. If I eat more than five hundred, I'm a fat slob of a cow. More than eight hundred, and I'm absolutely intolerable, disgusting, disastrous, uncontrollable, and every other horrible criticizing comment that just makes you want to swallow one hundred sleeping pills to just get the voices to stop.
These caloric intakes do not decrease when I purge. They have still passed by my mouth, they are still unacceptable.
I am still unacceptable.
Crazy. I am so crazy.5
I have been asked numerous times how long I think I will be alive. My answer is always a simple shrug.
I don't know.
I have a voice in the back of my mind that is constantly screaming at me to end me life here and now. More then once today, I've stared at myself long and hard in the mirror, critiquing every single aspect of my being, being moved to many tears and desires of death. 'I want to disappear,' I've said on a loop many times today. But I'm still here.
On the other hand, I do have another voice calling to me. As strange as it sounds, I hate this voice the most. It promises a future, it promises a way out. It promises health, but most importantly, it promises freedom.
I imagine these voices being like personal shoulder angels. Both angels, no satan-looking one. Maybe a Satan in disguise, but I can not tell which is deceiving me. Both, as far as I'm concerned, have been my savior.6
So with my pathetic heart rate, I now sit. I'm thinking about the fact that I could, I suppose, be nearly tolerable for the day, as long as I get rid of the fruit I had earlier. I'm also thinking about my morning, and the fact that I had another experience similar to that previous school event, but I was alone and did not cause a scene.
More so, I'm sitting, wondering where the little happy girl I once knew went off to.
I really do miss her terribly.
I want to apologize to her, for losing touch and growing up way faster then a child ever should.7
I'm sorry.
Author notes
Because this is my way of proving to myself
That this stupid thing
doesn't have complete and utter control over every aspect of my mind.
...Dont' be surprised if it's not up for very long.
Edit---
I can not quite possibly explain how much each comment has touched me. Thank you all for taking the time to read this and lending your thoughts. :]
Inspired by actual events.
I've decided to start a memior to give to my mother the day I move out.
For contests ----
Hope
"Pizza Pie"
And that one line about yor contests being a little strange - I can't put my back button for whatever reason. GAH!
A contest entry
- Oh, Those Teenagers! by AlwaysTheQuietOne.
265 points, ended March 9, 2008, 12 entries
Honorable mention
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Inspired by......whatever.... by Silverwit.
220 points, ended March 5, 2008, 13 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - The Pot Of Stew: A Mixture of Here and There by Miss Hanako Cullen.
294 points, ended February 22, 2008, 37 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Options Contest by Hitman by Shah Z.
155 points, ended February 27, 2008, 10 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Good writing... by Lois.Stone.
350 points, ended February 25, 70 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Im looking for Reality by Dawn Bon.
180 points, ended February 24, 12 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 14 of 14
-
This story is really touching, I loved it. I cried, too. Brilliant! I can't think of anyway which you could improve it. Not only thank you for entering the contest, thank you for entering such a beautiful story!
Thanks
Loisxx -
This made me cry.
It was really well written, heart-wrenching, and the last lines? Zomg. They killed me, seriously. I'm sorry you had to deal with this, hope you can figure it all out and gosh, I love the way you wrote this.
:]
It was beautiful.
<3
erica
-
this is too good, simply love it. it proves you can write about tenn problems with homosexual stuff!
-
This is just amazing. I've never seen someone write about this with such honesty. You give "their" perspective, while still keeping you in there. This is a great write. Keep strength
All the best
*Chelle
-
A touching story espicially since I know what it is like to go through an eating disorder. I had been through one when I was twleve. I nearly passed out one day on the way to school for I had pretended to be sick for the past few days so I had a reason not to eat, my parents drug me to the hospitial afterwards.
I still have a few problems and I have to force myself not turn back to the disorder...eh, I hate it when people ask me questions or take pity on me for it.
Oh, and I'm glad you posted this.
lol sorry for my ramble.
You points for my contest= 135
Good luck. -
Very moving...eating disorders are so vicious and circular. There's no lying about how hard it will be, but look how much strength you've shown in simply writing about it. You're so worthy of recovery. Don't let those voices overtake your own.
-
This is so touching and amazing! I love it.
Great job!
Love, Hope, and The Hay List,
Hannah Free
beginning: 5, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 5, dialog: 5, characters: 5.
-
This was very touching and quite well written. I hope you find what you're searching for, and make it out of the confusing darkness. You can do it
-
TOUCHING!!!!
ur story is a perfect mirror image of the feelings that every one with an eating disorder goes through. way to go!
-
Search for Truth
Everybody looks for it...you just have to find it! I've gone through similar searches, and I think you saw a glimpse of it when you realized that you might be "tolerable." The truth is, you're more valuable than you could possibly imagine. This piece was very well written. Keep searching for truth.
beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 5, ending: 4, dialog: 4, characters: 5.
-
I reread this at least four times. And each time I cried in a different spot. I wish I could tell you how you made me feel but I doubt that words, written or said, could offer a glimpse of what you have created here...
I offer only a shoulder, an ear, and a hug as we all seem to never have enough of the three.
-
This is so sad. I faced with a death of a friend, and this story just kept reminding me of her, and almost brought me to tears. This is amazingly written and I'm so happy I read this. I am looking forward to more of your work, because this is awesome. 10/10! As for grammar errors, I didn't see any. So that's a good plus! Anyways, great job! Keep on writing your amazing work! You have great potential and your wording is very good.
Keep up the good work,
-Brian. -
Wow, I can not believe that your praises have not yet been sung. This piece is so powerful it captivated me from start to finish - and I don't usually read this sort of writing. I think it was the pure truth and quiet desperation that lies just behind the words, it isn't blatant and you haven't thrown it into the reader's face with dark angst and teenage sentiments. Instead, the writing is powerful in the sense that it just presents itself to me as an open window to your mind. My favourite part was the description of your angels, and how both of them have been your saviour at one point or another. There is so much truth in that, for me anyway, and I had never thought of it in that way before.
More than anything, I feel a lot of pain in this writing. I struggle to find any critique because I really am not qualified to comment critically on such a great piece. Whatever you are going through I can see but a glimpse of what it means to you. I wish you all the luck in the world.
-
My first thing would be to say that you spell dying DYING, not the way that you spell it in the title. You might want to change that. But, I really liked the story that followed the title, though. It pulled me in from the start, and I though that I was there sitting with this girl, feeling her emotions. If I feel like that, then the story is very well written. Amazing job with this!
beginning: 4, language: 5, plot: 4, ending: 5, dialog: 1, characters: 4.
Adding your comment:
1 - 14 of 14
