Clandestine Confessions

July 21, 2003.
A day I remember all too well – painfully so.
I can tell you every single detail of those 24 hours.
They are memories that taunt me ruthlessly – keeping me awake for hours at night as they force themselves into my present reality.
Not content staying in decades ago.
–
At this point in my life, I was being driven to Hershey, Pennsylvania every week for my weight to be closely monitored by my doctor.
Who the world now knows as Rachel Levine, I knew as Richard Levine.
I spent a little under a year under this individual’s care.
And that is a topic I am not sure to what extent I will touch on yet.
–
My mom got my doctor’s appointment date wrong that day, but she begged them to still let me be seen.
I overheard the back and forth from across the room as I sat there with my head down doing body checks with my hands around my thighs.
(I mastered early on how to be in two places at once…an act of self preservation to dwell in both realities simultaneously.)
I could hear the panic in her voice as she explained how far we had to drive, how badly I needed this.
Them validating her concern and what seemed like aimless, excessive clicking on the screen to see what they could do.
They agreed to fit me in later that afternoon.
My mind shattered with the news.
For I knew why she was so adamant.
Her desperation meant one thing: I had run out of time…
–
I was threatened with being placed in a “facility” ever since December – not that I could even comprehend as to what that would entail.
I was a mere child…still innocent, still naïve, still sheltered from the darkness this world possesses.
(Outside of my own.)
They spoke about it with such doom – held over me more as a punishment than a means to help my healing.
How was I to perceive this place as anything but scary and dark?
How would I not feel petrified at the mere thought of being admitted?
How could I not feel angry at those called to “protect” me for exposing me to such pain?
–
We killed the remaining hours until my rescheduled appointment in the most random ways – breakfast at McDonald’s where I watched my mom and the woman who drove us eat.
We shopped at the outlets where my mom bought me a denim Hello Kitty shoulder strap purse from Claire’s.
And I wondered then if she was trying to purchase my forgiveness…
It was a purse I would never actually use – stayed in my closet untouched for years before I finally threw it away.
Too tainted with trauma to ever see the light of day again.
We went to Hershey Park where we rode the Chocolate World ride a couple of times – me becoming so angry they gave us a box of Cocoa Krispies at the end instead of a Hershey bar (as if it mattered…I wasn’t going to eat either…).
But it wasn’t about the chocolate.
It was about the end of that ride signifying we were that much closer to returning to the doctor’s office.
There was no more delaying the inevitable.
There was nothing left I could control.
I uttered all but a few words the entire time.
It was that or scream…
–
The appointment happened as normal.
Me being led to the room where my vitals were taken.
Asked to change into the paper-thin gown so I could be weighed.
Removing any possibility of me trying to alter the number.
“The doctor will be right in,” she said while writing the digits in my chart.
I sat there on the table under the bright fluorescent lights – the room devoid of any windows only making this place all the more depressing.
Contemplating the whole time if I would have enough time to step back on the scale and have it clear out before he arrived.
I had not known my weight for months now – not since my mom removed the scale from our bathroom that winter.
The irony of it being that scale was purchased for me to help track my weight loss in order to get my rabbit a couple years prior…
I knew how long it would take before the numbers disappeared.
I was playing with fire.
And knowing already what was at stake, I didn’t try…although, I would have had time…but also, it would not have even mattered.
My pursuit to see it go any lower was about to be halted in just a short time from then.
–
Thirty minutes passed before the door would open.
He did his routine – checked my heart, my stomach, my reflexes, my eyes.
“Take a deep breath…swallow….lay down….open your mouth…let me know if this hurts…follow my light…”
There was no pleasantries or small talk.
No asking about my food intake as he normally did.
It was straight to the point – maximum five minutes with me in that room.
My fate had already been determined by him long before he entered.
“Get dressed and come out to the waiting room.”
–
I did as I was told.
I sat next to my mom – being made so aware of my body as it ached and burned sitting in the hard chair.
A few other people now occupying the space with us.
I tried to entertain my frantic mind by comparing myself to them – wondering what their fate was, what their story was, jealous of them most likely having the privilege to walk out those doors to their home.
–
He stood at his doorway and called us into his office.
The broad shoulders and height suddenly feeling so intimidating the closer I got to him.
I needed to run.
I needed to feel normal again.
I needed someone to keep me safe.
None of which would happen.
For many years to come…
–
He motioned to the two seats in front of his desk.
My mom would not look at me.
Despite how much pleading I did with my tear-filled eyes for her to direct her eyes in my direction.
I just needed to know I was seen.
Someone, anyone, please see me…truly SEE me…
–
I fixated on his silver bracelet – strange symbols carved in it that I was trying to decipher to distract myself.
The same one so frigid on my skin just minutes before during my physical examination.
The same one that is worn to this day.
My body still shudders when I see it – evoking an immediate trauma response.
–
“J, we can no longer safely treat you outpatient. You need to be admitted to a facility,” he said so stoically.
Anxiety rushed through me, unable to stop my legs from shaking.
The tears from falling.
My heart from racing.
My eyes now off the bracelet and back onto my mom.
But her eyes still not on me.
I know it was her defense from her own fear, particularly in me being mad at her.
But that knowing didn’t stop me from feeling the abandonment.
“Please…,” I whispered. “Please don’t do this to me mommy…”
He heard me.
“You have no choice in this. There is a bed waiting for you already.”
–
And with those words, my life, myself, my mind would never be the same again…