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Drive Home

We both sat in the Dr.'s office together. She talked to both her and me at the same time. Explaining that dealing with an eating disorder is like dealing with an alcoholism. You wouldn't keep a fully stocked bar if you lived with an alcoholic. Just like you shouldn't keep cabinets full of cookies, chips and candy bars if you lived with a bulimic. 

The ride down the elevator to the car was quiet and tense. I kept my eyes to the ground. 

She was livid as she drove us home. "You're just doing this for attention. Why should we have to sacrifice for your problem? I don't really care if you live or if you die at this point. I'm sick of your behavior."

I felt like I was falling inside of myself. 
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