We decided to watch the movie Mr. Right. It was a movie Robin loved, but I had never seen, so she really wanted to show it to me. Near the start of the movie, Dad walked into the living room, and when he saw me eating my ice cream, he nearly fell over in shock. He was even more in shock when I had finished the ice cream, and still ate the snack he offered Robin and I later in the movie. Robin was just as shocked as Dad was. Heck, even I was shocked.

I caught Robin and Dad looking at me in awe as I was slowly munching away on my snack.

"What?" I asked after swallowing the small piece I had torn off.

"I, uh, I'm just surprised." Dad said. "A couple days ago you were yelling at people for making you eat. Now you're eating without a problem."

“Yea, really.” Robin agreed. “Something changed your mind?”

I shrugged. Obviously I wasn’t going to tell them the real reason. They left me alone about it until later in the day. Robin and I were chatting in my bedroom, and she brought up how hard I’ve been trying lately. She made sure that I knew she was proud of me, but wanted to know what made me change my mind about recovery.

“You really want to know?” I asked quietly. I knew she wasn’t going to like it.

“Yea.” Robin said. “It’s not that bad is it?”

“Well… Don’t tell Dad, but, uh, I weighed the other day, and it’s not good.” I sighed.

“Mind telling me the number?”

I let out a big sigh before saying it. I hated to admit I had even gotten into the 60’s. I didn’t even think it was possible, but there I was.

"Jeez, that's low…" Robin said. “I’m glad to see you’re working hard to fix it though.”

"Thanks." I said.

--

A day and a half later and it was time for me to go to my first day of outpatient. Since I was still spending my dreams in that space with mum, I was still worried I was losing weight. Every pound I lost put me one step closer to death. Plus, I had to still be close to death if I was spending time there. Which didn't make sense to me because I was eating so damn much. As much as it was nice being with Mum, I still needed to get out of that space. Not that anyone knew about all of this. I hadn't bothered telling anyone about my time with mum, because I figured they would think I was crazy.

It was about 8 in the morning, and Dad was bugging me about getting ready to go. We had to leave by 8:30 to get there by 9, and Dad didn't want to be late. My time at outpatient was from 9 to 5 on weekdays. Luckily, on weekends I was free to stay home, unless they felt the need to keep me there for some reason.

"C'mon Diane." Dad said. He was in the process of packing me a small bag of things. Just small things like a journal, phone charger and so on. "Get ready. Throw on a sweater and some joggers or something."

"I'm going…" I mumbled. I hated dressing lazy when I was going somewhere, but Sheryl advised that I wear lazy clothes, for obvious reasons. Bloating could be very uncomfortable in skinny jeans. And it was also triggering wearing small clothes that I was eventually going to outgrow. Even just knowing I was going to get too big for some of my clothes triggered me.

It wasn't often I even wore jogging pants or sweaters anyways, so I could only find some from when I was a higher weight. They didn’t fit in the slightest. I had to use an elastic to tie the extra space in the waist of my joggers so they wouldn't fall off. And the sweater was definitely way too big. It was so big it was hardly staying on my shoulders. I sighed as I pulled my sweater up over my shoulders. I was going to have to wear something underneath it for sure. I didn’t need to go around showing off my collarbones.

Dad already had my small bag of stuff in the car. Now all I had to do was get my ass in the car. He was starting to get a tad pissy, so I started moving a little faster. Once I was ready I went downstairs to the entrance to get my shoes and jacket on. Despite it being late May and things were warming up, I still needed a jacket to keep warm outside. I got to the entrance, and to my surprise, Robin was there with my brother and sister, waiting for me.

"Hey!" Robin said. "You excited?"

"More nervous than excited." I replied. "What are you doing here?"

"Supporting you, of course! I didn't want to miss out on you going to your first day of treatment!"

I smiled. Robin really was one of the best friends I could ever ask for. We were able to chat for a bit before Dad was really getting worried about being late. So, after giving Robin and my siblings a quick hug, I was on my way to treatment.

I tried my best to relax on the drive there. Stressing out would only make the drive feel longer. Dad could tell I was stressed, so he popped in one of my favorite CDs into the car's CD player. Dad knew one of my favourite bands was The Doors, and it usually helped ease my stress when there was good music playing. L.A Woman started playing and it almost instantly put me in a bit of a better mood. With the help of good music, the drive wasn't nearly as bad as it could've been. Dad parked close to the entrance so I wouldn't have to walk too long to get to the building. Once I was inside however, my mode of transport would no longer be walking, but wheelchairs. I wasn’t too ecstatic about that. I wanted to walk around on my own, but Sheryl said if she caught me trying to do that, she would have my head. Sheryl promised me she would meet up with us, and show us around. Since we already knew each other a bit, she figured it would be less awkward than going around with a nurse.

While I was slowly getting out of the car, Dad ran over to the entrance and got a wheelchair. Dad really didn't want me walking I guess. Not Even small distances. He was so worried I would end up hurting myself, and I didn't blame him. I was pretty broken. He got the wheelchair and helped me get from the car into the wheelchair. He then grabbed my stuff and put it on my lap.

"Alright, got everything?" He asked.

I nodded.

"Cool. Now let's go find this unit."

It took us a while to find the place because both of us had zero sense of direction, but eventually we found it. And as promised, Sheryl was waiting there for us.

"Oh, there you are!" She said. "I was about to go looking for you! I figured you got lost!"

"We did." Dad laughed. "The hospital is so confusing!"

"I know. It took me a while to get used to it when I first started working in the unit." Sheryl laughed. "So! Diane! You good to go?"

"Yea, I think so." I said nervously.

"Don't be nervous." Sheryl said. "It's a really chill place. Especially compared to some outpatient units I've been to. I think you'll like it."

Sheryl led us into the unit and showed both my Dad and I where everything was. I was shocked at how homey the unit was instead of resembling a hospital. I had spent a bit of time googling what to expect in outpatient, and most places did not look like this. They all looked like strict hospitals with no sort of chill to it. This however, was actually really nice. Sheryl showed us the whole unit, and then led us to her office to talk about how things were going to work out for me.

"So!" Sheryl said as we sat in her office. "How do you feel so far? After seeing everything?"

"It's… it's more homey than I pictured in my head." I replied. "I pictured a strict hospital setting."

Sheryl laughed. "Yea, we get that a lot. But let's face it, nobody likes a hospital setting. So we've been working on keeping this place more homey. Lower stress environments are also better for people with mental illnesses, so that’s also a bonus."

"That's pretty amazing." Dad said.

"Yep. Anywho! So, since it's your first day, it's going to be a bit hectic unfortunately. You've got to get some tests done, and we've got to get a plan for you going."

I groaned. I hated tests. Especially blood tests.

"I know, I know." Sheryl laughed. "I don't like tests either. So, those will get done probably after your dad leaves, and then we'll work on your plan after. Your plan will be based on how your tests go. You might need more of one thing than the other. Make sense?"

I nodded. "Yea."

"Good. For now though, I want to get your weight, and then talk to you about how things work here."

I nodded again. Sheryl got up and walked over to the scale she had in the corner of her office. She zeroed it, and then had me get up to step on.

"Can you take your shoes off?" She said. "And I’ll ask that you step on backwards. I don’t want you seeing your weight."

I slid my flats off and turned around.

"Alright then. Step on."

I stepped on. I stumbled a little bit, but Sheryl quickly stopped me from falling. Trying to step on a scale backwards was harder than it looked. She let go of me and I looked down at the bouncing number. I prayed it wasn't lower than it was before. If I even just maintained, that would've been good enough for me.

"Oh! Oh dear." Sheryl said. I wanted to know the number, but knew she wouldn’t tell me. Judging by her reaction though, it wasn’t good. Ashamed, I stepped off, put my shoes back on, and quietly went to sit back down. I stared at my feet. I was extremely frustrated with myself at this point. So much so that I started crying.

"Diane?" Dad said quietly. "Are you ok?"

I shook my head no. I knew I had lost weight. I wasn’t stupid. I could tell by how things were fitting me, but I just refused to believe it. But after Sheryl’s reaction, I couldn’t be in denial about it anymore. And to add to that, I couldn’t even know the number! Dad wrapped his arm around me and hugged me. Sheryl wrote down my weight in her journal, and then looked up at me with a sad expression.

"David? How did you think she did over the week?"

"She did really well!" Dad said. "She was actually eating quite well and resting a bunch! Heck, she even had ice cream with her friend!"

Sheryl looked surprised. "Hm. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t you not want to recover, Diane?"

“Yea…” I mumbled.

“What changed your mind? If I may ask?”

“I-I didn’t want to hurt people anymore…” I replied. “Especially Robin… I don’t want her attempting suicide again…”

“I can see that as a reason to turn things around, but I have a feeling there is something else too. Is there?”

I hesitated before nodding. “I… um… I weighed myself. And I… I didn’t expect it to be so low… I don’t want to die…”

I could hear Dad let out a heavy sigh before asking for the number. I quietly told them, and Dad looked shocked. Sheryl on the other hand didn’t look as shocked. She looked more concerned than anything.

“Well… If I told you that you lost more weight, what do you think of that?” Sheryl said. I was surprised she even told me which direction my weight had gone. My heart sunk when I heard her say that.

“I… I don’t know what to say…” I was starting to cry again.

"See, what's happening here is hypermetabolism." Sheryl explained. "It usually occurs in people who've restricted their intake as long as you have. And it's especially common in people your size too. If what your dad says is true, then there’s a good chance you’re hypermetabolic."

"W-what?" I asked.

"Basically your body burns up all the energy you give it too quickly. None of it has time to be stored. It all goes right to the organs, or wherever else the body needs it. So you'd have to be eating a lot more than what you were to even maintain your weight."

"So…" I mumbled. I knew what this meant. “I’m going to drop more weight…?”

Sheryl sighed. "Yea. Most likely."

Lies. With all they'll be forcing into you, you’ll be fat in no time.

"Is it...is it possible I c-could prevent myself… from…" I muttered through my sobbing. I was so scared of getting worse that I couldn't keep calm.

"Losing weight?" Sheryl finished my sentence. "Well...maybe. But from what I've seen with people in your condition, you'll probably lose another couple pounds."

Dad looked shocked. "Even if she ate everything she needed to?"

Sheryl nodded. "Usually we have to start slowly. We can't just give thousands of calories to people who haven't eaten properly in months. It would shock their system, and even cause refeeding syndrome."

"Refeeding syndrome?" Dad asked.

"When the body goes into shock from being introduced to normal eating again." Sheryl explained. "It can cause some serious heart issues, which in some cases can be fatal."

"Is that a concern for Diane?" Dad asked hesitantly.

Sheryl gave a sad nod. "She's at very high risk for it. So we would definitely have to slowly increase her intake until she's eating enough to be gaining. It will most likely take a week or two to increase, so she'll most likely lose weight too. Especially with hypermetabolism."

Hearing that made me upset. Very upset. I was just going to die. My body wouldn’t be able to handle losing any more weight. So what was the point? I had gotten so bad that I couldn’t even save myself if I wanted to! Secretly, I wished I had gone into treatment when I first had the chance.

Failure. You're going to die anyway. I've won. Stop trying, and just let it happen.

“What’s the point in even trying anymore?” I sobbed. “I’m not going to survive! I-I did this to myself… I’m such an idiot…”

“Diane.” Dad leaned over and looked me in the eye. “You are going to get through this. And if you dare give up, I’ll be right there to give you a kick up the butt. You hear me?”

"Your dad's right." Sheryl said. "I know you think it's pointless, but I promise we'll help you through all of it. You'll see that in the end, it was all worth it-"

"Why would you w-waste your time on someone who's going to die?!" I cried. "I won't make it!! You might as well say I'm d-dead!!"

"Diane!" Sheryl scolded. "We aren't going to let you die!! Just because things aren’t looking too good now doesn’t mean they won’t get better!”

“What if they don’t get better?”

“Believe me, I’ve seen plenty of people with severe eating disorders come in here with almost no hope.” Sheryl said. “Most of them were able to get back on their feet, and come out of here striving. You can do it.”

Defeated, I nodded. They weren’t going to let me win this.

"Ok, well, now that we got that cleared." Sheryl said. "Rules. We need to go over those."

I nodded.