Hello, old friend. I realize it’s been awhile since we were last on friendly terms, if you could even call it that back then. You may not even remember who I am, what with the ever-growing number of “followers” you seem to have. You always were a very compelling sort. I admit that, even now, there are days when I have to battle with myself; remind myself who and what you truly are. Days when I have to keep myself guarded so that I don’t go back to you like I have so many times in the past.
Do you remember my last letter to you? How empty and helpless it was? I’m sure you didn’t care then, just as you don’t care now. You’re self-serving and heartless, but I’ll refresh your memory on it regardless. It was roughly four and a half years ago:
You made me weak, all the while filling my head with the sense that I was somehow stronger because this.. this I could control. You made me distant and self-loathing, a stranger to myself, my family… my children. I can’t forgive that.
For years, because of you, I forced myself to consume as little as possible, filling the internal complaints with water when that wasn’t enough. Water became my life. Close to 3L per day.. sometimes more if I was having a particularly rough day controlling the pangs of hunger.
I can now see the irony: the one absolute essential for survival was the very thing helping me to slowly kill myself.
So, old “friend,” it has finally come to this: No More. You no longer get to decide what’s important. This is me stripping you of your power over me. Yes, there may be times when I slip and, even now, I still have to keep meticulous track of what I eat so that I am sure to eat enough, but I know now that I never want to give someone or something else the power over me that you have always ended up taking.
You see, there are people that need me and they don’t care if I look like Kate Moss or Gisele Bündchen. All they care about is that I’m here to cuddle them, kiss them and love them. With you in my life, in any form, they are potentially being denied that one little, yet so incredibly huge, right of their childhood. They deserve to have those things.
And I need to set an example for them.
A good one.
You are not a part of that.
Sorry, but you don’t win this time..
The image above was made with an actual excerpt from my personal journal in October 2006. I had possibly one of my worst battles with anorexia in the year that followed.. until I found myself pregnant with my now 2 year old son in the winter of ’07 and dragged myself out of it. It’s a rough road sometimes, and, yes, I slip.. but it’s worth the fight.
This post was written in response to a prompt by The Red Dress Club.
Write a short piece – fiction or non-fiction – inspired by one or both of these statements.
Word maximum is 600.