I spent last summer in a locked psychiatric unit that specializes in eating disorders. The ward is called Alice, and I was there from July to September. While my peers went to the beach and the mall, I spent my days in group therapy trying to figure out why I had ended up there. Alice was generally a miserable place to be. The days were slow, and every moment seemed to be focused on food. Which, for an anorexic, is highly anxiety-provoking.

But not everything about Alice was awful. I met some amazing girls, who have transformed my life. People like to believe that teenage girls with eating disorders are self-centered and shallow, but those I met were some of the kindest, most thoughtful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.

I also formed relationships with the staff. Heather, a mental health counselor, was my go-to “check-in.” We would talk about my past in relation to my eating disorder and self-injurious behavior. She was different from most of the people I’d met in the mental health field. She didn’t try to fix anything; she just listened and sometimes offered anecdotes from her life to show she understood. One particular conversation stands out in my memory. I was telling her how I was embarrassed about the self-harm scars that covered my stomach and were beginning to decorate my arms. “You know,” she said, “I have scars on my stomach too. And it took me a really long time, but a few years ago, I wore a bikini to the beach. And people noticed and asked questions. But the thing is, it’s no one’s business. Your scars aren’t something to be ashamed of. I know one day you’ll rock a bikini too.”

I also became close with a nurse, Shauna. She had long, bright red hair, and when we talked she would let me braid it. She became my go-to nurse to drop an NG-tube, which is a device that manually pumps nutrition into your stomach. She was bold and unapologetic, and she didn’t take any bull. One night, I got caught self-harming and was upset enough to refuse to let anyone dress the wound. Shauna marched into my room and hugged me as I cried and told her I wanted to die. “That’s not an option,” she replied. “We aren’t going to let you die. You’re worth too much.”

The thing I learned on Alice was that I was not alone. I was surrounded by patients going through the exact same thing as me, and staff members who were there to support me through it all. Anorexia is an isolating disease. It takes away everything you love and diminishes your world to food and the scale. In the psych ward, I learned that there is more to my life than obsessively counting calories. I realized it is possible for me to have a future.

During my 50 days on Alice, I made best friends and discovered new ways of coping with anxiety. I am forever grateful for everyone who helped pull me through that hard time.

I am by no means cured. Every day is still a struggle with anorexia. But now I have hope that things will get better and that I will one day be okay.