no rugby for halfhearted women

The post is mainly part of a letter that M. gave me this morning. It's longer, but I have no time and skills to translate it. And even though I have his permission, some parts are not translatable, it just hurts.

Oh and if you think you can't be more awkward that at point x, don't think it. You still can have a meltdown (tears included) in front of your sibling's therapist (even though you might think you are crying alone in the corner of the garden just with a good old chestnut tree). F*word. I have no idea what Mathias or Mum told him about me. However he told me that if I want to be a doctor, I need help (I saw him literally 10 Minutes before it for a first time in my life just saying Hi to him). He told me that I have a right to suffer despite not weighing 35 kilos. That I need to stop my halfheartedness and do something now, for myself and for my brother.
I have no idea where to start.
Needless to say I didn't do nothing for school today and my head is a rugby field.

(...)
Last night I've laid in bed and heard a dog barking somewhere outside. It was like hearing an alien noise or being an alien on Earth and hearing a dog barking and not knowing what barking is. As if - after one week in this fucking place - there were nothing between thick silcence and high-pitched sreaming ADHD kids. These kids ARE aliens. In that moment, all I wanted was being that dog, so free in his thoughts, just instinctive. And free in his peeing. Yesterday the doctor made me collect my 24 hours amount of urine in some kind of glass jug and it doesn't feel good. He told me my kidneys don't do their job as efficient as I needed and that I have low red cells and something else in blood work and he needed my urine. Seriously doctors- isn't there any 21st century and less humilitating method for kidney testing? And what is it actually for-is he about to find some insanity cells there? But don't worry, I was good boy peeing where I was supposed to. It's so absurd I am doing this. I mean- what am I doing?
(...)
He (the doctor) asked me, why I've never said ANOREXIA since i came here. He asked me whether I don't think I have it. I told him I am probably meeting some of the criteria for it and I know I am not all right, but I don't feel anorexic, just low. He told me I am meeting the criteria without any doubts and asked my to describe him, how someone who is anorexic feels. If I wanted I would play the debating game with him, but no, not now. Still don't know if he's a bastard or fair.
(...)
There is a girl in the "bad" ED group where all new people and those who don't get better according to treatment plan are excommunicated. I don't know much about her and she is bit loony, cutting her arms and chest and putting pieces of glass or metal under her skin or swallowing non-edible things. When the therapist asked her why did she swallowed something (some swan shots?!) she answered that she was afraid to stay same. She can't be the girl she used to be, she hates who she is now and she is afraid who she will become, so she is altering her body by starving or hurting it to make the change her change, symbolic and palpable instead of the usual insidous gradual inner change called growing up. Is it that easy? Is it really just about fear? Am I such a chicken scared of my shining future that everyone is forecasting me? I don't think so, but maybe I just don't want to admit that I am so banal. What do you think?
(...)