July 11

A Chapter by Calypso

July 11

School was okay today. Things seem normal for me now. Wake up, eat the greasy, fatty food, go to therapy, sleep, and repeat.

I just want to go home.

In photography Mr. Cooper told me I haven’t been turning in my work. He said despite this being a summer class the grades I made still mattered. I wasn’t too sure how the grades would matter (or if they told my high school about these classes), but I didn’t press it.

He started his lesson on how photography shaped history. He used popular photojournalists from the Great Depression and Civil War as an example.

At the end of class he gave us an assignment to show our history with photography. I wasn’t too sure how I could show my past but one girl was already coming up with ideas. Apparently she was a cutter and planned to take a photo of the scars on her legs.

Lunch was okay. We ate a cheese sandwich and peaches. I ate everything on my plate because I didn’t want Janna on my tail, not that she has been lately. There’s just a bit of me that don’t want the attention that comes from not eating.

I had a sudden idea. After my plate was clean I took a picture of it. My ‘creative juices’ have been ‘flowing’ too much lately, in fact I have been feeling too good at all.

Janna pointed this out during group therapy.

“How is everyone today?”

Some girls mumbled incoherent words. Then there were olios of responses. One girl started talking about how she hates that she isn’t allowed to have fingernail polish and another girl talked about her period cramps.

Janna rubbed her forehead and told everyone to settle down.

After a few stray voice hushed she began, “Many people may not know it but bulimia and mental illnesses can go hand in hand.”

I started out the window trying not to think, but the other bulimics (there were only bulimics in this group therapy session) were quiet so they could listen.

“Sometimes a mental illness will case bulimia and vice verse. Don’t forget thought that bulimia is an illness on its own.”

“Ya, ya. I was diagnosed with depression and put on Prozac.” Said April.

“Well Prozac is commonly prescribed to bulimics. Its original purpose was to treat depression.”

I tried not to think about my Prozac medication, but I was drawn in.

“So are you saying depression is the only one?” Mary, a girl from the other bulimic group, said.

“No, no. The illness can range from Obsessive Compulsive Disorder to Border line Personality Disorder.”

There was a moment when it seemed no one breathed, much less spoke. Something like mental illness seemed to have hit home.

“Emotions can vary with some illness.”

Someone looked like they were about to speak, but stopped. Janna didn’t like the quietness too much so she put it out there that anyone could talk about his or her emotions.

Just as she said the question Annabel, a girl from the other group, started talking.

“I feel like s**t.” She declared. “They say I have Border line Personality Disorder, but there’s nothing wrong with me!”

“Your doctors know what they’re talking about. They wouldn’t diagnose you if there weren’t an illness. God knows if we misdiagnosed you and gave you medication that gave you side effect our pants would be sued off.”

I felt the sudden desire to tap the window seal. I felt like if I didn’t I would develop some kind of illness mental or not. The taps have to follow a rhythm or I feel nervous.

“What about you Aelge, you haven’t said much.”

I felt like my heart would jump from my chest “Wha... what do you want me to say?”

“How are feeling?” How is that bulimia treatment goin’ for ya?

“I’m okay, really.”

After group therapy Janna told me to stay behind. Since most of my group is level 5 by now she can let them go to where they need to be by themselves.

The nervousness hit me and I was afraid this conversation was going to go bad so I automatically started tapping my thigh. 1 e and a. 1 e and a. 1 e and a

“I’ve noticed that you seem depressed lately, is everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m just burnt out.”

Janna paused, “Tell Dr. Small the next time you see her okay?” She placed her hand on my shoulder I guess to make me think she cared. I know Janna does care, but for the time being I don’t want anyone to care too much.

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