It's been nearly a full year since you last heard from me. After my near-death experience in Taco Bell, I agreed to get help, and was booked into a treatment centre immediately. Knowing that I had to give up eating food as a way of comfort was very hard, but I knew it had to be done. My life was in the palms of my hand, and it simply had to be this way. I knew that if I kept eating, at least at the rate I was going, I probably wasn't going to see another day, and I couldn't put my parents through that. They already suffered enough stress and anxiety at the hands of my disease.

          Upon entering the treatment centre, I was met with dozens of other individuals struggling with food addiction just like myself. Some of them were even heavier than me, and some were so skinny it looked like they might snap in half like a twig from just a gust of wind blowing them over. Regardless, we were all going through the same struggles, and it strangely felt comforting to know I wasn't the only one out there having a hard time. In fact, it was actually really nice.

          The daily groups helped me. We all sat around in a circle and told our stories of why we ate food, and why some of us didn't eat at all. Again, it was very calming to hear everyones' stories. Some of their backgrounds were very painful, even worse than mine, but I didn't let that bother me, and kept my head up. At the end of the day, we were all there for the same thing, and everyone in the treatment centre got along nicely and there was no judgement of one another.

          Sometimes it hurt whenever it was my turn in the circle to share. Telling everyone I was once a superstar basketball player brought back bad memories, but I had to face reality and get my life back to a place it once was. There was one girl, in particular, Anatasia—who was severely anorexic—and would often ask me about my athletic background. She told me she loved tennis before her eating disorder and depression, and hoped to get back to a place like me one day where she could play for fun, and enjoy the sport again in a non-serious matter.

          And then there was another guy named Jack I befriended. Like I mentioned, he was even bigger than me—411 pounds to be exact. He told me he started eating excessive amounts of food after his father died of cancer when he was only fourteen years old. I felt bad for him. You could see he still hadn't gotten over the death of his father, but like me, he was there to make a positive change, so I definitely respected him. We played together on the ping pong table provided at the treatment centre. We had some pretty competitive games and really got into it, despite our large and now slow frames.

          As my treatment went on, we worked with individual therapists on ways we could replace food with positive aspects to benefit our lives in a healthy way. I got partnered up with a guy named Manj, and we both agreed that getting back into basketball eventually would be a good way to distract myself from the need to eat. But as I mentioned with Anatasia, I made it clear that I did not want to play competitively anymore for my own personal reasons. So we agreed that my goal was to get back into decent shape and play pickup games at the beach, just for fun.

          After two months at the treatment centre, I was eventually discharged, and wished my best luck by the staff and other people struggling with their weight. During my stay at the treatment centre, I had already lost twenty-five pounds. Obviously, I was still fat and overweight, but it was a good start to my journey. I was nervous that I may relapse and go back to my old habits, but after doing solid work for nearly two months with Manj, I was confident that I could manage my cravings.

          As I got back into everyday life, I bought myself a monthly pass and started going to the gym again to work out. I started off with small amounts of weights, and gradually found myself building back up the somewhat strength that I had in the past. A lot of my workouts were very basic, and the average person could easily complete them, but I kept pushing myself and doing my best. Of course, it was embarrassing at times being the single heaviest person in the gym, but at least I was trying, and people had no choice but to respect that.

          As I started to lose more weight, I reconnected with a very special person in my life that I hadn't seen in ages: Coach Meldrum! I had received a call one afternoon from an unknown number, and I instantly recognized his voice as I picked it up. I never thought I would see him again after leaving the team. I was very worried about his well-being. That final day I saw him at the sand dunes on the beach he looked so serious and upset, but he told me he was doing much better.

          Just like my problems in the past, he didn't ask about mine, so I didn't bother asking about his. We simply focused on the future and what was to come. It was like those times he was coaching me on the university team—where we had that strange father-son-like bond. We naturally connected again, and he told me about how he was now coaching his two daughters on their high school team. As I said, it was really good to know he was doing better, and I'm sure he felt the same for me. We even talked about meeting up at Ambleside Beach and getting in some pickup games with the kids there, and I accepted.

          The first day we met I was back to 275 pounds—obviously not where I wanted to be, but after six months of training, I was clearly making progress. Boy, was I rusty. I hadn't picked up a basketball in almost two full years, but it was nice to get back out there. Having a jump shot is almost like riding a bike—if you're naturally gifted and can shoot the ball, you're going to get back into it with your muscle memory. After about twenty minutes, I was swishing my warmup shots, and even sinking them off the backboard at an angle, like I did for the university team.

          Having said that, once we started playing I got tired very easily. But unlike Assistant Coach Anton in the past, Meldrum was very encouraging, and kept giving me pats on the back as he saw me struggling to get up and down the court. Boy, Meldrum could play just like I remembered, pulling up from the three-point line and dropping straight buckets, like when he occasionally would join our scrimmages on the team. As the pickup games went on, I wasn't even half the player I used to be. But I was having fun again, and that's all that mattered.

          After we played, me exhausted, Meldrum and I went for a long walk on the beach together. We talked more about what our plans were for the future. He asked me what I wanted to do with my life now, considering I never did make it professionally in basketball. I told him that I wanted to get into counselling—something that I never would have considered back when I was the star athlete I was. I explained I wanted to help people who struggled with eating disorders, and he totally respected that, feeling it would be a great thing for me to pursue. Overall, it was great to see him that day, and we've kept in touch ever since.

          As for my parents, they keep telling me how proud they are that I keep pushing forward, and not letting my past define me. They have vowed to stay here in BC and support me, instead of returning to England, and it's great to have them in my life full-time again. Of course, just like myself, they were heartbroken when they found out about the negative article written on me at the university, and how everyone judged me. I've never gone back to Hattonville University since the day I dropped my books off, and never plan to return. As my dad keeps telling me, the past is over, and all I can focus on is the future and what's to come in life. I love both my parents, and know they'll always be there for me.

          Overall, even though I'm not at the place I want to be, I do feel I'm on the right track. I'm still checking in with Manj and making sure I keep following the steps he and I came up with back at the treatment centre. I'm also walking everywhere I go now—no more of that silly scooter stuff. I'm determined to keep pushing and get to a place I know I'm capable of. This has been a long journey. Lots of ups and downs, but I know it's going to pay off in the long run. Yeah...I think I like this new version of myself.

          Who knows.

          I might even go celebrate with a quick meal.