Thursday, September 30, 2010
"How I love to give in."
Only a few more hours to go, before I am (un)ceremoniously booted from hop-sital. So far my day has been grand, I woke up in a good mood and had a little chat with this supposed "God" before I even let my feet touch the floor.
"Hey whassup, whatever it is that made Trent Reznor, M, tattoos, and banana marshmallow candies. I need some help. Can I keep my head out of my own ass and not get fucked up today?"
Yup, replied my own voice.
"Good enough. And can I go without chundering, just for today?"
Yessa, I replied.
"Sweet! Now, 'God'," I smiled up randomly at the sky, and tried to look salesman-y and convincing. "I could really use a sign that I am ready to leave hop-sital today. So, you know...I'm sure you're busy, what with football games needing to be won and earthquakes and all, but if you have a moment, please tell me, should I stay in hop-sital, or should I go? Thank-you, and I wish you another 24 hours sober. I mean me. Amen."
I hopped out of bed, ready to kick some ass. Or, alternatively, graciously accept that I was going fucking NOWHERE.
I followed my typical morning routine, calmly eating my breakfast with the other anorexics, then sitting and savoring my tea afterwards. Then, just like every morning, I marched purposefully back down the hall and into the dorm room, where I collapsed into my bed and went back to sleep.
When I woke up again, I have to admit that the rest of the morning was painted with just the slightest hint of impatience - I was raring to go! Come ON, come ON, it's Snack Time, now it's Group Time, let's go! I tried to keep it to myself, as I didn't want to rub it in the faces of the other anorexics, but at each meal I would smile to myself and think, "This is my last such-and-such..."
Finally, it was lunch time. We were all seated in the Group Room, and conversations were floating around with the music from the radio above me, but I was lost in my own thoughts. Suddenly, I noticed the room had gone quiet, and I looked up to find the entire table of anorexics staring straight at me.
"Sorry, what?" I said. I suspected I had been asked some sort of question.
Everyone cracked up. "You were miles away," LynnLynn laughed. "What were you thinking about?"
"I'm not even sure," I admitted. "What did you ask me?"
"I asked if you were ready to go today," she said. "Like, are you sure that today is the day?"
"Yes, I am,"I said, and I felt an adrenaline surge through my body. I really am ready, I thought with a little shock.
The moment the words were out of my mouth, the fucking moment, a new song started on the radio. No announcer, no garbling preamble; the music just started pulsing out it's familiar perfection.
It was fucking Nine Inch Nails.
I choked on my vegetarian chili. Fuck me!
It was my sign.
And yes, I AM AWARE THAT I SOUND LIKE A GODDAMN HIPPY RIGHT NOW.
But I had asked for a sign, a very specific sign - was I ready to leave the hop-sital today? And right when LynnLynn asked me, and I said yes, Nine Inch Nails comes on the mother licking radio.
Coincidence? Methinks NOT.
Plus, I will also just point out for the doubters (fucking player haters) out there, that I knew I was ready before the music started anyway. So there.
But FUCK did that ever help. Whoo hoo! It could only have been more specifically aimed for me if it had been Blind Assassins/ Deadmen that came on the radio.
Cuz I like Tool, I like Nirvana, I like System of a Down. But this?
This was clearly meant for ME.
Oooooh, time for my last Snack. Fuckin eh.
Posted by Henrietta Collins at 2:31 PM
Labels: Anorexia Is The New OxyContin, Recovery Is For Quitters And Queers. Or Maybe It's Steers? Yeah It's Steers. Sorry.