Where we left off, I was in the ER and had to come back to the hospital the next day for a follow up appointment.

The next day rolled around and I was very nervous as to what was going to happen to me when I went back to the doctor. I drove back to Columbus and patiently waited in the waiting room of a behavioral health facility. I was called back by a psychiatrist who proceeded to ask me tons of questions.

"Do you think about harming yourself?" "What about harming others?" "Are you suicidal?" "Have you thought you aren't worth anything?" were a few of the many questions she asked me. Of course, I answered no to most of these questions. After we talked, she asked me what route I would be okay with taking. I told her, "Whatever gets me to a healthier life is the path I'll take." She then walked out for a moment to talk with another psychiatrist and came back with some scary news. "Okay, so, the doctor wants to take you in as inpatient for a while." This meant I would be spending some time in a mental health facility with medical care. I was a bit nervous but if it was what I had to do to get better, I was okay with it. The psychiatrist told me to go back to my dorm and pack about a week's worth of clothing and other necessities I would need. So, I headed back to Starkville, sort of scared out of my mind with a million questions. "What am I suppose to do about school? About work? About anything??"

I went back to my dorm and packed clothes, some books, and all my school work (because I was under the impression I would be able to do school work while in the hospital). I checked myself in to the hospital and was taken back to a room where I was basically interrogated and searched. To my surprise, over half of the stuff I brought in with me was taken away, including all my school work and my phone. I was left with only the clothes I brought with me. I had no idea I would have everything taken from me, so I had no way of calling my parents or friends or really anyone. I was led back to my temporary room to be even more shocked. The room was completely empty except for a bed and desk. No TV, no furniture you'd usually expect in a hospital room, nope, just a bed and desk. The walls were painted solid white, so it felt like I was in a psychiatric ward. And later on, I found out that's exactly where I was. The "closed unit", or Columbus's Psychiatric Ward at the Baptist Health Center.

The first night was brutal. I was surrounded by mentally insane people that freaked me out even more than I already was. I found out we could have something called "phone tie" every day from 6;00pm to 7:00pm. Our phone time was limited to 10 minutes per call, and we couldn't stay on the phone for longer than 30 minutes all together. After dinner, my first call was to my parents, who were so happy to hear my voice. I told them everything. "They took my phone, they took my school work, they took everything." I told them. "Don't worry, we will call the school and let them know the situation." my mom replied. My next call was too my brother and sister, who were also very happy to hear my voice. This phone call was very hard to end, because they were telling me how proud they were that I finally opened up about my disorder and decided to get help. They couldn't say enough how proud they were. I finally hung up the phone and continued on with my night.

Each night, I was given a dose of Zyprexa, which is an anti-depressant. In the mornings, I was given Prozac, another anti depressant. These medications made me very sluggish and tired at first, so the majority of my time in the ward was spent sleeping. But, to be quite honest, that's all I really could do. The social workers there held these meetings called "group" or "activity time" where we would learn about a character trait or do the cliche "talk about our feelings". And when I wasn't in those boring group sessions, I was sleeping.

The other people in the ward with me were very creepy and scary, most being middle aged to older men who were out of their mind. I was the youngest there and very out of place. Two days go by and I'm about to go insane just being in this place. The nurses woke me up every morning at 4 AM to draw my blood and weigh me, and to add on to that, they would also wake me up periodically through the night to take my blood pressure. It really sucks being in a deep sleep when all of the sudden you're awakened by a needle going through your arm. I was just ready to go home. The only good thing about this place was my social worker, who was so nice and understanding. We would have meetings every so often to discuss what my plans were once I got out of the ward, and she would give me advice on what my best options were.

I would look forward to phone time every night because it meant I got to talk to my family. If I couldn't see them, I at least wanted to hear them. But, I mostly looked forward to the upcoming Thursday because that was visitation day. This was the day anyone on your emergency contact list could come in and visit you for one hour only. For the section I was in, visitation was from 6 to 7 PM on Thursdays. My parents promised they would come and it was all I could think about while I was there. Finally, Thursday gets here and it's all I could do to stay calm. I was ready for 6 pm to get here. I wanted to see my parents so desperately. 6 PM rolls around and here come my parents through the hospital doors. I wanted to cry tears of joy, I was so happy to see them. I enjoyed that one hour I got with them as much as I could because I was not sure when the next time would be that I could see them. Once the hour was up, my parents had to leave. It was a hard goodbye, but I was determined that I wouldn't be staying in the ward much longer and I would see them again.

The next day rolls around, a Friday. I had been in the ward since Monday and quite frankly this week felt like the longest week of my life. I was awakened at 4 AM like usual, but this time I was only weighed and didn't get my blood taken. After spending nearly a week in the hospital where I ate more than usual, to my surprise I was still the same weight as I was when I entered, 82 pounds. I was a bit disappointed, yet there was still that disordered part of my brain that was happy.

I talked to my social worker who told me I would be released that afternoon. I was so ecstatic, I couldn't wait to be out of there. My mom was going to be coming that afternoon to pick me up and go over to the college where we would talk to the Dean of Students about my absence. The time finally came. I saw my mom walk through the hospital doors and heard my social worker call my name and to gather up my belongings. I was given back all the stuff that was taken away from me to begin with. My phone, my school work, my books, practically everything!

My mom and I were given papers on information about how to move forward with the recovery process as well as a food plan that laid out what my caloric intake needed to be each day. I left the ward with a huge smile on my face, ready to start my recovery. When I stepped foot outside, it was like heaven. I had not seen the outside world since the beginning of the week; I was confined to a white room all day with no outdoor access. My mom and I celebrated my discharge by going to my favorite restaurant in Starkville, The Lost Pizza, followed by my favorite ice cream shop, The Churn and Spoon.

Ever since that day, February 28th, 2020, I've been committed to recovery. I am fully determined to kick anorexia's butt and come out so much stronger in the end!