I Keep on Running

I woke up to the feeling of my bed shaking; my eyes slowly opening to see that the room was completely white and entirely way too bright to keep them open. They snapped shut again, and suddenly, I didn’t care too much about the shaking anymore. Inhaling deeply, I raise my left arm, draping it over my forehead, sensing the all-too familiar feeling of bandages caressing my skin. I opened my eyes again, knowing that my arm was blocking the light to see that my arm was wrapped up in red and brown stained bandages. The sad thing is I was completely used to waking up with this on my arm. The only problem was I didn’t know where my location was. I place my arm back down against my sheet-covered stomach and look around- the first thing I see is Jorel staring down at me. I sigh with relief; knowing that I wasn’t alone. “Jorel,” I croak out, “Baby, where am I?”
A saddened smile appears on his face, “You’re in the hospital, Payton,” he simply replies, only to add on. “I’m glad to see that you’re finally awake.”
“Finally? How long was I asleep for?” my eyebrows knit together in confusion as I try to sit up.
He shakes his head and gently puts his hands on my shoulders to place me back down in the bed. “Stay down, you need to rest. But uh, for a few hours now- I know that isn’t very long, but you passed out due to blood loss I think and-”
“I-I cut that bad?” I ask, glancing at my arm again before looking back at him.
He only nods, pointing to my other arm, which I now noticed was all hooked up to wires, narrow tubes and what looked to be an IV.

Tears sprung to my eyes, taking in the image of myself that was now a monster. I couldn’t believe what I had done to myself, and that fact was very overwhelming to the point where I just started sobbing. J rubs my arm, asking me why I was crying- I wasn’t sure how to explain it to him, so I shook my head. He kept pestering me to tell him, urging me and urging me until I finally got some sort of explanation out. “I don’t want to be like this anymore, J. But I know… I know I can’t stop this. It’s an addiction, a coping mechanism that I’ve gotten so used to, to the point where I almost don’t want to stop.” I look at my arm, lifting it up to see where the bandage began- I started to unravel it, only to have him stop me. “What?”
“Payton. You can stop this. You have to. And, you really shouldn’t look at what you’ve done to yourself, because it’ll be triggering,” he warns me.
I shake him off by telling him I’ll be fine and take my arm out completely. I close my eyes before I see anything, breathing in deeply. Exhaling slowly, I open my eyes, taking in the massacre that was my arm. Some cuts couldn’t heal on their own; they were stitched up. Others were only closed by a little, and I knew that if I moved my arm wrong, they would just re-open and pour blood. A smile twitched onto my face as I thought about the comfort I’d get from that. I clenched my fist and pointed to a spot on my wrist, “I could cut there.”

“Stop.”
I chuckled to myself, pointing to another spot, “And here. Oh, and see this cut?”
“Stop.”
“I could just move my wrist like this,” I start to bend my wrist back, “And re-open it-”
“Stop! Payton, fucking stop!” he yells, slapping my hand away and holding my cut up wrist so it wouldn’t move to open the wound up again. “I really don’t want to do this to you. But, clearly, you need help. Your parents and I checked you into a mental institute to help you with your cutting problem,” his voice was completely serious and stern, “And you are going to stop, whether you like it or not. I cannot and will not continue to see you do this to yourself.”
“Why?!” I cried out, tears spilling down my face as I take in what he just said. The thought of having doctors see and help me with this problem felt wrong, it didn’t sit right in my stomach at all.
“Because it breaks my heart every time I see you do this to yourself! I just want you to get better; I just want you to be happy! Is that too much to ask for?!”
“You don’t understand J! I can’t stop, no matter what kind of help I get-”
“Payton, these people are professionals who deal with people who are much worse than you. Trust me, you are going to go, and you are going to get help. You will be better. You will be happy, and I can’t wait until I see a beautiful smile reappear on your face once you’ve gone weeks without so much as thinking about hurting yourself.” Tears start to spring in his eyes; his voice starts to quaver at this point, “Okay? I just want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy.” A sad smile takes place on his face.
His words sink into me, deep, like I’ve been shot with a harpoon. It was comforting, and I felt horrible hearing from him just what I’ve been doing to him. I felt guilty, and I couldn’t turn down that offer. I nod, sniffling as I do so, with tears still running down my cheeks, I agree. I really started to cry at this point; he leans down and kisses me hard on the mouth. He rests his forehead against mine, wiping away my tears with his thumb.

I knew now that what I’ve been doing was really hurting him, and for that, I felt completely guilty. I never wanted to hurt him like the way I’ve been doing, and ironically enough, it made me want to continue what I was doing. I wanted to punish myself for giving him this pain. Yet, I knew that I shouldn’t. I knew I had to stop, and for him, I was going to attempt this, and I was going to stop, eventually. Not right away, but eventually.

He breaks our embrace to rewrap the bandages around my brutal arm, hiding everything again so that neither he nor I could see what I’ve done. He lets my hand fall back down to its resting place against my stomach, which had ended up sliding down so it rested against my protruding hip. Even though I knew how skinny I was, I just never got over it. I could never stop looking at all the divots between bone and skin all over my body. I moved the sheets, and the hospital gown they put on me to see my pelvis. It was thin, sickly thin. It had just occurred to me that I never had spent this much time looking at this general area on me; it was usually my collarbones and cheekbones. I traced the bones with my fingers gently, noticing that my hipbone probably stuck out about an inch. It was gross, I realize. What the fuck have I been doing to myself? “That’s another thing,” Jorel mumbles as he sees what I was doing.
I look up at him, hoping he’d continue with what he had been about to say.
“You’re also getting help for your anorexia. I’m sure you could have figured that one out, but I just thought I’d mention it to you before you go.”
I nod, and thank him for letting me know before I sighed and just rested my eyes. I never thought that I’d be in the situation that I was in currently. It never crossed my mind, ever. I thought that I would have gotten better before it led to this, but I was completely wrong, clearly.

-+-+-+-

As much as I knew I should have gotten help, and as much as I thought I’d sort of enjoy it because it would have been for the better, I really hated this place. Jorel was right; they were professionals who helped people who were much worse than me- there were so many people here, who were worse than me. Some people went as far as breaking their own bones, some were not only anorexic, but they were bulimic. They were the toughest ones to deal with, I think, because no matter how many times a doctor would try to help them, they would just go to the bathroom and vomit their food back up. That’s what I would wake up to every morning; the sound of someone gagging, water splashing, toilets flushing and then an argument. This had just made me want to go home. Not only that, there were also group conferences, where we would talk about our problems and whatnot. The only good thing about this, though, is that it’s only for five days they keep me locked in here. After that, if my behavior is alright, they release me to go home, and I return to a program called Partial for several weeks.

Currently, I was sitting in a small plastic chair in the form of a circle with about eight other people who seemed to all be fidgeting. As much as I feared this whole procedure, I wasn’t at all that twitchy- my nerves were actually calm enough to the point that I could control my movements. This would be my third day here, which means this would be my third conference, or “open circle”, as they like to call it here. Some people have been here longer than the five day minimum, mainly because they couldn’t get their act together, or they were sent back from home for not being “fixed”, which is a shame. “Payton, how have you felt today?” I wasn’t sure what their names were still, but one of the women with blonde hair that was considered a therapist, or psychologist rather, started with asking me the questions.
I wasn’t going to lie, because you’re not supposed to in these types of things. However, most people do, because they just want to get the fuck out of here, and I couldn’t blame them. I sighed internally, “I’ve felt fine, actually.”
She smiles at me, “Care to explain? It’s alright, you don’t have to.”
“I think I might try to, at least. I need to be better at explaining my feelings,” I start, swallowing hard as I try to think of why I felt alright today. “I feel fine today, mainly because I’m surrounded by people who are just like me; they have problems, and they have loved ones who want to fix them. Don’t get me wrong, I never wanted to do this. But, hearing what Jorel had to say made me actually think about this- I don’t want to hurt him anymore, and I’m going to try my best to get better for him, and for myself.”
She nods at me. “Very understandable.”
I continue, “I’m not entirely sure why I feel alright. Maybe it’s the fact I’m not just in my home, bundled up under my blankets. But either way, I kind of like this feeling.”

“Do you have any feelings of sadness currently?”
I nod slightly, “I do, actually. I’m sad that I had to keep doing this to myself to wind up here. I really thought I was going to be able to stop in time, before all this. I’m also sad, because I can’t see my number one supporter, but I’ll be able to see him in two days, and I look forward to that. Overall, I feel…As if this entire thing is actually worth it. It might actually work. I don’t have too badly of urges to cut myself.”
She smiles at me, thanks me, and jots a few things down on the piece of paper that was clipped to a board. I look down and pick out all the dirt and grime from under my nails as I continue to hear everyone else’s stories, completely zoning out.

-+-+-+-

This is the last day that I’m here. They’re complimenting me on how I was able to tell them the truth about everything- my urges, my eating habits, everything. And another thing, I respect them on how they try to get my eating schedule on check- they give me small portions of foods to eat, that are supposed to sort of jump start my hunger. They respect me, when I tell them that what they give me is too much, and reassure me to eat what makes me feel comfortable, not just force feeding me. For breakfast today, I had a small serving of cereal, lunch I had half of a ham and cheese sandwich, and for dinner, I’m not sure what I’ll be able to eat. I’ve been eating every day, and I am starting to gain some of my hunger back, which is a positive thing. Jorel would be ecstatic to hear this.

I glance at the clock. It’s 6:23 right now- I get checked out at 8 o’clock. A small piece of me is sad that I have to leave these people who are trying their best to help, but a huge piece of me is joyful about leaving so I can finally be with J. And all at once, the mixture of both emotions had become so overwhelming to the point where tears started running down my cheeks, and light sobs came from my throat. To be perfectly honest, I wasn’t quite sure why I was crying. I haven’t cried in days- maybe that was just my body saying I needed a good cry. Perhaps I was going to miss this, or maybe I was just so joyful that I was going to be okay in J’s eyes again. Either way, once someone had taken notice of my distress, they ran over to me to see what had been wrong- and I told them the truth; I didn’t know.

Though, saying this had made her smile knowingly at me. I covered my face, attempting to dry the tears on my cheeks, yet still talking to her through my hands. “What’s wrong with me?” I ask, with a slight chuckle.
She lightly took my wrists and moved my shaking hands away from my messy face, the smile still tugging at her lips. I realized that this was the same therapist/psychologist that had asked me the questions almost every day. “You’re happy. You may not feel as if you are, but believe me. Your true feelings are coming out, and you’re more likely than not pleased that you actually received support from us. You got comfort from us; seeing that there were people who were willing to take their time to help you, even seeing other’s in the same state as you comforted you. And you know what else has you expressing this?”
She waits for me to answer before she continues. I shook my head ‘no’.
“You’re pleased with yourself. You’re ecstatic that you will be able to run into your boyfriend’s arms with a true, genuine smile on your face. You are excited to see how elated he’s going to be, seeing how much courage and joy you’ve obtained from here.”
I stared at her with just a blank expression as I took all this in, scanning her words over and over again in my mind. She read me like an open book- everything she had said was completely true. The comfort and support I got, the courage I gained and the excitement I have towards seeing Jorel, knowing that I’m on my way to becoming my true self again. I grinned at her, nodding, saying a small thank you to her. She patted my back, telling me that she will always be here to help me, after handing me a piece of paper with a name and number on it.

Amanda Rosano.

She pulled me into a warm embrace, the ones where you don’t want to let go of for a while. I felt comfort in that, yet again. I was definitely going to miss her. We let go, and just then, dinner was called. I got a small soup that night. I never finished it though, with my tensions still running a little high. They were okay with that, they understood. They knew I was nervous, yet excited at the same time. I couldn’t wait to get out of here, but I also was nervous to go back into the real world after all of this.

I found myself comfortable in one of the cushioned chairs in the building, letting my head fall against the back of the chair. A fan from the window was casting a cool breeze that drifted its way towards me. I closed my eyes, sighing with relaxation. Just as I began to doze off after sitting here for a while, I felt two masculine hands place themselves on my shoulders. I thought nothing of it; keeping my eyes shut and allowing my body to remain calm. The hands start to massage into my skin, causing a grin to form on my face and a little hum to sound. It felt great- it’s been a while since I’ve had a massage. I could feel their lips right next to my ear, their breath tickling the tunnel- I twitched away from it slightly. I breathed in, taking in the familiar nicotine-axe scent that I was oh-so familiar with. “Hey there, beautiful,” J’s voice sounds.
Instantly, my eyes shot open, a huge smile plastered on my face as I jump out of the chair and spin around. There stood a beaming Jorel, arms wide open to take me in his embrace. I don’t waste a second, leaping right into his grasp while my arms tightened around him. He hugs me back just as tight, lifting me off of the floor by a few inches to receive a loud giggle from me. He puts me down on my own feet, cupping my face with his hands to bring my lips to his own forcefully. I felt a vibration buzz through me as the realization of being reunited with him finally sank in- oh how I’ve missed his kisses. They always woke up the butterflies down in my stomach, which made them burst against the walls. But this one in particular was like setting off a bunch of fireworks both in my belly and in my head… I never wanted to let go of him, I never wanted to separate from his lips again, with the way they’re making me feel now.

He pulls away, wrapping his arms around me to keep my body with his own. “Whaddya say, wanna go home?”
“With you here, I already am home.”