It was November and I was sat there in a waiting room at the front of an inpatient mental health adolescent hospital in Bristol. My parents sat either side of me. All of us were quite anxious and a bit on edge. The last 24 hours hung over us, my heart ECG coming back as bad and a huge family argument about what was right for me. I guess the reality was that those arguments had pretty much been my life for the last year or so. Ever since my parents had decided to interfere with my eating and made me go to CAMHs.