‘I was at war with my body’: my year as a day patient on an eating disorders ward – The Guardian

I throw the bread. It misses the nurse and lands in the metal sink with a pathetic thud. I run out of the kitchen, through a door labelled quiet room and kick a beanbag. I kick it again and again, until all I can see is the red fabric and white wall blurring into pink. I want to smash something, I want to break things until I collapse with exhaustion and never wake up.
But psychiatric hospitals are built to stop people like me doing that. No door handles or light fittings; no sharp objects or windows…

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