Attacked, Trapped, Tormented: My War with PANS & Anorexia

“Do I have to take my shoes off?”

I asked my psychiatrist in a trembling voice as I stared at the floor, too ashamed to make eye contact.

My hands were shaking as I reached for my shoestrings, because I already knew the answer, and I knew what would happen the moment my doctor saw the double-digit number on the scale… Continue reading “Attacked, Trapped, Tormented: My War with PANS & Anorexia”