One day at a time I am still alive. You never die of a broken heart no matter how much pain it causes. I sit alone in the dark and weep, drink and over think the last three years of my life with a man who didn’t want me. Why should I love myself when he did not care enough to love me?
The last four weeks have been a blur. I have mostly been drunk and when I am sober I run to the gym and try to outdistance my demons on the elliptical. I go to yoga in search of zen and cry instead on my mat as my body gives up. I am weak. I vomit several times a day because I have lost the will to starve. The binges numb me. Hours go by in oblivion. I puke up my heartbreak, my lost love, my dreams, blood. I puke blood. I know that I cannot go on like this. I have lost 8 pounds in four weeks. My clothes hang off me. I should be happy that I am thin but this is not about thin. This is about rejection and abandonment. I am devastated beyond words. I suffer in silence.
My friends and family try to carry me through this. They tell me that I made the right decision, that he didn’t deserve me, that a break up is a process and that I will get better one day at a time. But they are not there in the long, lonely nights when I lie on the bathroom floor because I don’t have the strength to stand up anymore. They are not there when he haunts my dreams and terrorizes my every waking moment with his presence. I cannot stop loving him, wanting him, needing him even though I know that I am nothing to him. The silence and the distance destroy me and every day I die a little bit more. I wither and shrink and disappear, one day at a time. I retreat into ED because it is all I know. It has never abandoned me.