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CHAPTER22
THERE’S A RUNNINGjoke in my eating disorder recovery group that if the apocalypse happened and any one of us was left standing, we’d still find our way back to our weekly meeting—even if we were in tethers, the building was gone, and we had to do it alongside a few zombies.
So I’m here today despite everything that’s happened since yesterday morning.
The women in my support group have seen and endured unimaginable things during their recoveries.
After starving herself for five months, Linda was pronounced dead twice when her heart stopped before successfully being resuscitated.
After years of battling ED, Tonya had had enough and was about to kill herself with poison she’d purchased off the dark web when an earthquake struck. But the vial fell, crashing on the ground, convincing her that God didn’t want her to die.
After a decade of binging and purging, Jill’s parents, who’d always been there for her, finally kicked her out of their house. They changed their locks and called the police to arrest her for trespassing when she tried to return. Left on the streets, without anyone or anything besides ED, she hit rock bottom and turned her life around.
Given their checkered pasts, these women have always remained nonplussed, regardless of any member’s revelation, so when I tell them what’s happened to me since yesterday morning, what comes out of their mouths is the last thing I expect.
“Holy crap,” Linda says.
“That’s fucked up,” Tonya says.
“It sounds like a movie plot,” Jill says.
Their reactions don’t make me feel better because this isn’t a movie—it’s my life.
“Sorry,” Linda says, catching herself. “How can we help?”
“I’m leaving for a while until everything gets sorted out,” I say.
“Where to?” she asks.
“New York,” I say. “A friend invited me to stay with her.”
The lie surprises me because it’s the first one I’ve ever told here, but given their reactions to what I just shared, I don’t want to tell them that I’m going to New York to chase leads. They’d probably raise concerns for my safety or cast doubts about my plans, and I don’t want to hear either.
If Mom is still alive, the only way I see out of this is to find her, warn her that she’s in danger, and tell her she needs to disappear again. That way, the people after her won’t follow me anymore, and I’ll be able to return to my life safely.
“Are you worried about relapsing?” Tonya asks me. “Seems like now’s a high-risk time since ED first surfaced after your mom died.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to go down that path again.”
This is my second lie of the day, or rather not a lie, but I’m withholding something from them, which is its own kind of lie.
I don’t mention that yesterday I had trouble eating the mac and cheese at my office or how last night I only ate half of my spaghetti dinner with Eddie and Sarah, or that thismorning I skipped breakfast with them and, instead, rushed out to meet Pearl.
Because if I tell them the truth, I know they’ll tell me I shouldn’t leave, that I need to stay here until I’m more stable. And I have to go.
As I withhold this information from them, I feel ED, a cunning, sleeping giant, begin to awaken, stretching out his elongated tentacles in the air.
In recovery, it’s said that we have theclock, proudly counting and tracking the days, months, and years since we last restricted—while ED has thetime. All the time in the world to wait for a crack, an opening, however long it might take, and to pounce again.
CHAPTER23
February 1998
SEVERAL DAYS HADpassed since Emily had been whisked away in an ambulance from Better Horizons to the hospital. The days blended, and I didn’t notice her absence until the nights when I was lying alone in my bed in our room.
This particular day began like all the others. It was morning, and the girls lined up at the nurses’ station for their daily blind weigh-ins, meaning we got on the scale and turned around so our backs faced it, and we couldn’t see the number.
One of the diagnostic criteria for anorexia is fear of gaining weight. Seeing the number on the scale go up can cause enormous distress and subsequent resistance to eating.
