(mi's side) Violent delights.

Violent delights

Mi

The next morning was a bad morning and I had only been out of bed for half an hour. I knew that I should have been OK and I told myself that over and over again, but the brain remembered what had happened the day before. It remembered that fact the running and given me nothing. It remembered that Esmee had stitches, it remembered that Esmee was pregnant and it remembered that it was now only nine days until I left the unit to spend the first night at what they said would be my new home eventually. It mostly remembered though through all the more important things was that the morning before I had been presented with pancakes and yoghurt for breakfast. It remembered my BMI was now at least 18.5 which meant I weighed over 115lbs.My whole body screamed constantly at how unacceptable that was but I fort back everyone did but sometimes it was too much. That morning through it all the thought of food was driving me insane, the thought of feeling something inside of me was imposable because the there was a bit inside of me that new how close oblivion could be and there was a bit of me that still wanted that. Emmet and Esmee had tried to show me that there was a place for me in there world but they had only proven that in a psyc unit I could fit in, that I would be safe, even with the agreement that now hung on my wall I was still aware that the world was scary and that it would, could and had hurt me.

I bounced my legs fast up and down on the side of my bed at the same time as I rand my hands together. I didn’t like the fact that my fingers almost didn’t fit around my wrist any more. When I had first came I could almost get them around my thighs but then I had only weight 75lbs. I still remembered my first day here so well, the way Emmet had got to me so instantly and the way I had told him I was fat. I told myself over and over again so I believed it, but now I could admit it at least to myself if no one else. I wasn’t fat, I was dying from being so thin. The truth was I just didn’t care. I wanted to die… Now I just wasn’t sure. In some ways it was worse. At least then I was convinced that I had no life to live.

“So what’s all this about then Mi?” Emmet asked coming to sit down on the edge of the bed with me before placing his hand on one of my shaking legs. “Are we talking extreme anxiety or calorie burning or something else entirely?

It doesn’t matter anyway. How about I ask you one? How’s life with the baby and are you excited?”

“Life with a baby mostly tiring hence the massive amounts of yawning that will be going on today and if you are referring to the fact that Esmee is pregnant, then of course I couldn’t be more excited or happy, now your turn. To me it matters.”

I smiled and looked away from him staring at my legs wondering myself for a while why I was so content of bouncing them up and down or how it helped in the slightest. Calorie wise it would be helping to burn them off before breakfast but not it the quantities that I would be putting them back in, anxiety wise it didn’t serve a purpose. It didn’t even help. I just couldn’t stop.

“Is I don’t know an OK answer? How about I’m scared? Or how about once again I am on red observations and this morning Lee had to watch me when I used the toilet and changed my clothes. She looks barely older then I am and she seems to have her life on track. She’s not insane! She isn’t messed up inside and someone being pregnant, or a pile of pancakes doesn’t send her loop the loop crazy!”

“Mi I’m really sorry that you are still on the red observations. I tried really hard yesterday to get them down and so did the late shift. Esmee was trying as well through the night but she had an emergency admission that had to take priority.”

“It’s not just the red obs Emmet. It’s everything; sometimes it’s just too much inside my head. It just feels like there is a million different things going on and they all want the most of me. I need things to stop, or slow down. I don’t know I just woke up in a state.” I jiggled my legs harder against the side of my bed watching as the fat on the bones jiggled underneath the harshness of the denim on my jeans.  I had always seen it. It had undoubtedly gotten worse over the months but the belief was founded now. There was fat stuck to my bones and it wasn’t just me who could see it. With tubes and drips and manipulative words they had gotten their way, they had made me what the world deemed to be normal and I loved and hated them for it in equal measure.

“You do not need to think of anything right now apart from getting through breakfast in a safe manor. I understand that thoughts won’t just go away and some thoughts are very intrusive and hard to bare and I am not asking you to forget them, what I want you to do is try and store them so to speak. Like a computer anti-virus system. It finds something that is potently harmful and it puts it in a safe vault for you to deal with later. Once in a while it picks up something particularly nasty that takes a lot of battling with to get rid of and other times it’d just a mistake and it is something that was never really that threatening in the first place.   Do you understand what I mean?”

“Since when has life become that simple? If we were all computers Emmet it wouldn’t work lie this. There wouldn’t even be a need for this place, or your job. Besides a computer doesn’t feel like this,” I moaned pulling the sleeves up on my cardigan and scratching at the scars underneath that littered my arms. It had been a long time since I cut. Well it felt like a long time it was only weeks, maybe a moth. I tried not to remember but it was not a monstrous idea and until then it had felt OK because remarkably I hadn’t really needed to now I was starting to feel it again. It was impossible not to go crazy when the sight of your own arms could trigger you.

“OK, let’s roll those sleeves down for a start, now is not the time to be looking at them. You feel in distress and your mind doesn’t need a reminder of the way that it used to cope because naturally it will want to go back there again.

I didn’t want to let him do it as Emmet took my sleeves by force and pushed them down back over my arms but my head wasn’t happy. The feeling that it wanted had already set in at first glance at the carnage. I had never understood it. I never understood why I felt such longing to cut my own skin when most would have run a mile, or why one look at an old wound could make me long for the blood underneath. Most of all I didn’t understand why I wanted to make the longing worse by staring at the very thing that was triggering the thought, maybe it was simple as no matter how violent it was for some reason for me and other people it actually worked and we took delight in that.