(mi) the boy who cried wolf

The boy who cried wolf

Mi

Somehow I had gotten used to breakfast in the unit and had almost got the art of it down to near perfection. In fairness staff tried to vary our meals but there was never much they could do with breakfast that wasn’t predictable and that was what made it easy, however today was one of those days that the customary orange juice had been replaced by a medium sized green apple and we were having some sort of bran mush the congealed into a sticky lump into the bottom of the dish for our cereal. The toast was pretty much the same as normal; one wholemeal slice and one white with some sort of strawberry jam scrapped over the top of both. It was all perfectly manageable really apart from one problem, I hated the taste of the bran mush and where as I loved orange juice I was not a fan of apples and the white bread… admittedly still one of my freak out foods.  I was struggling and it was plain to see.

The thing was my eversion to the breakfast was not really a calorie thing or a fat content thing or an “oh my god I am such a fat cow thing” it was mostly a “my cereal taste like baby sick and sawdust thing” but the staff did not see it this way and even with any amount of explaining that it wasn’t because I was trying to restrict but because it tasted so inhumanly horrible to me they did not or could not listen and all reacted in the same way. Eating disordered behaviour, we must stop this.

“What’s going on inside your head?” Edward asked over the noise of the rest of the patients that had all finished their breakfast and were trying to amuse them self’s as they had to all follow the ridicules rule that no one was allowed to the leave the table within the hour and a half allotted time for a meal unless everyone was finished. It was a stupid rule put in place I was told to try and bring some structure and normality around eating. It was meant to prove that Eating was normal and healthy and something to be enjoyed by all with the understanding that we all ate to live and that was Ok. It was meant to provide a supportive environment within a community and provide some expectation and guidance to those who could not eat that they must eat, that it was Ok and they were expected to do so. It was complete and utter bullshit.  It was concocted inside the head of some high up psychiatrist  who had no personal experience of mental illness, had earned their medical degree at some point in the 1950’s and hadn’t set foot inside an acute ward or even seen a patient since the 1980’s. There was no sense of reassurance given to anybody if they were the last one really struggling to eat in what could be a group of over twenty people. If you were they last on to finish all you actually gained was to be put in a spotlight and place centre stage in the cirque du freak, today like so often before I had this honour.

“Why is this so hard Mi?” Edward prompted again when I ignored his question and opted for putting another spoonful into my mouth and chewing what felt like several thousand times so the brown glue was thin enough to swallow. “You are demonstrating a lot of disordered behaviour this morning. I was wondering if there was something I could do to help you.”

“It’s not disordered behaviour,” I snapped angrily before popping in my last slice of the bitter apple and chewed wincing as it scrapped down the inside of my oesophagus. “I don’t like green apples and the cereal taste like baby poo. The only thing I did have any emotional problem was the white bread and if you haven’t noticed I have already eaten all of that. Edward sighed my perfectly true explanation going over the top if his head and somewhere into the clouds that threatened to rain over the unit again. In fairness to him I had heard the excuses ring confidently and true from my mouth so many times before declaring that I didn’t like something when I did but just didn’t fancy the calories that were put in front of me.

“Well you got about another ten minutes before time is called on breakfast and Crystals the one with the keys to the tube feed today. I’m sure she won’t think twice about using them.” Edward said softly.

I picked up my spoon and shovelled in the rest of the cereal in in around six bites without bothering to chew and trying not to taste. Crystal looked disappointed. I tried not to be sick and felt sorry for the boy who cried wolf after all did anyone of the village people every ask him honestly and truly why he did it?