Mealtimes and Milestones by Constance Barter Read Free Book Online

recovering side, the more the force
pulls me back to the anorexic side. Therefore if I remain in the middle, I stay totally neutral and satisfy both voices. To me eating but not drinking seems like the perfect solution, I will be
like a peacekeeper between the two sides.
    Tuesday 4 September
    It was the first day of school today at the hospital. 19 I went through with my key teacher 20 how my timetable would be set out, and where I would do my extra subjects for GSCE (Geography, French, German and Latin). I was pleased because I’ve been really frightened
that they might make me drop a subject.
    In the third session of the day we were set some temporary maths to do, just until some work was sent through from my school. I suddenly felt really pressured again. I want to stay on top of my
work because that is what I judge myself by, but I also know that my health comes first, whether it’s positive or negative. The right balance seems blurred in my mind.
    That evening during tea a nurse came in. I still hadn’t drunk any fluids, and it had been two days now. I knew what she was going to do, and I really didn’t want it to happen. She
supported my head again because I was crying and kept moving it away. The tube came closer and closer to me, and was slowly pushed in.
    It is corrupting me. It is my enemy but also my lifeline. It is unpleasant and sore, but offers my body fundamental nutrients to stay alive. It is a snake squeezing all the hope out of me and
restricting me, forcing me down a disconsolate path from which I can’t escape. I blame myself for everything.
    Thursday 6 September
    In my core team meeting I asked for consent to see either a friend or my grandparents this weekend. Although it would be less awkward seeing my grandparents with my tube,
I think it will be more motivating to see a friend from school because it is them I am really missing. It was agreed, and because it was such a positive meeting I even managed half a glass of water
at snacks.
    I had family therapy in the evening. We discussed why I find it hard to talk to my parents about things. We wondered if it is because we are quite a jovial family, which therefore makes it hard
for me to say if I’m feeling low for fear that I will bring down everyone else’s moods too, and if I do that then I feel guilt-ridden and totally accountable for the unhappy mood. It
was helpful for me to see that I can be sad, and that my parents will be able to cope with that – they are mature adults. Although I don’t think that I’ll be able to put this into
practice.
    Friday 7 September
    I spoke to my parents, but it was too late to arrange for a friend to come this weekend. I found this quite hard, because I had really built up my hopes, and I really
believe that this is the motivation that I need to come off the tube permanently.
    In the evening with my feed, everything just developed into a collection of uncontrollable emotions, and I couldn’t deal with it. I tried to stand up and tug the tube out of the
nurse’s hand, but I couldn’t and she kept on tubing my feed in. I pleaded with her through my tears to stop, but she didn’t.
    ‘Please, please stop . . . what if I don’t want to live?’ I screamed at her. She didn’t respond.
    I was put on observation again. I went out of the feeding room and tried to lock myself in the bathroom, but the nurse caught me too quickly. I was howling with frustration, completely
distraught, and was trying to retaliate against her. I wanted her to leave me alone. I want to evaporate and be forgotten about. I was begging her to leave me alone. Another member of staff then
came in and calmed me down. I don’t really know why I went like that. I guess I am so frustrated with myself. I hate myself, and I hate this illness. It has captured me in its grasp, and it
is never going to let me go. I’m better off dead.
    Saturday 8 September
    My parents visited me today and everything was going really well until