What would you choose? I did not want to go to treatment, but I didn’t want to stay in the hospital…
For 5 days straight I researched EVERY single treatment center on planet earth like I was looking for a college
The only difference? The temperature outside & city. They all looked the same (& I KNEW they all treated the same).
Nevertheless…I had to get that nose and gut-irritating tube out of my nose!…I found a treatment center where I knew one person–the nutritionist, a woman I’d worked with back in college at UT.
“Lauryn…this is your time. You’ve been fighting for a long time. I’d be happy to work with you…we do things differently here…” she said on the phone
On that, I booked my ticket to Miami and arrived to a place that looked like it was straight out of a Vera Bradley catalog, thinking “I am not in Kansas anymore…”
Sitting down in the intake lady’s office, I swore I’d only stay the minimum 6-weeks. Not a day more…
The intake lady asked me to pay up front, and for the 1st time in my recovery, my parents turned to me…knowing if I wasn’t bought in, I would NOT be bought in.
I shakily wrote a check for $20,000 for the first 30 days of treatment-everything from my savings…closed my eyes and handed it over. She gave me the classic 5 minutes to say my final good byes before my bag check for laxatives, razors or whatever else girls sneak in.
Hugging the rock who had been by my side every day the past 5 weeks, my mom gave me her cross necklace she’d had since her teens… “Lauryn, I want you to keep it, and know, you are going to make it…this is your time…”
Miami here I come…for a very bumpy ride…