'No. It's my fault Dan. I'm the one who took the pills. I'm the one who made myself throw up. It's my fault my oesophagus ruptured. I was the one who did it to myself. I've got no one else to blame, except myself. I'm sorry I'm a mess, I'm sorry I'm a fuckup. No wonder you don't want me. But in all honestly, I don't blame you. I wouldn't want me either'.
Dan stares at me, sadness filling his whole face. 'But I do want you Tessie. I'll always want you'.
'No you don't' I say, shaking my head.
'No Tessie, I do. Please, forgive me and I'll show you'.
'I…I can't' I whisper. 'I can't forgive you…I'm…I'm sorry'.
Dan stands up to leave and he gently kisses me on the forehead. 'It's okay, Tessie. I don't blame you. I'm sorry too' and with that, he leaves. He doesn't say goodbye.
I'm in the hospital for 4 months.
My stay is a marathon, no sprint at the end. I get tired. I ask questions. Quite often, I spend a day with black clouds in my mind. But I sit there quietly, until they pass.
No more games. No more throwing up. No more throwing away the food. No more excessive exercise. No more counting of calories.
The concept of eating is scary. I hear the voices.
Fat. Ugly. Bitch. Whore. Ugly. Stupid. Fat.
But I don't let them pull me down. I won't.
Food is life I tell myself each time I take a bite. Food is life.
And that's the problem, when you're alive; it's easier for people to hurt you. It's easier to crawl into a hole or a cage. It's easier to lock everyone out.
But that's a lie.
I'm beginning to measure myself in strength, not pounds or centimetres.
I don't lie to the doctors or nurses, I take their advice on board and I tell them how I feel. They don't think I'm crazy.
Another page turns on the calendar, it's February now. And I realise, I was a girl stuck in between worlds, a ghost with a beating heart. A winter girl. A girl who got lost in the snow. A girl who ran in endless circles.
But I managed to drag myself out of the dark and ask for help.
Size doesn't define you. It never has and it never will.
Eating is hard. Breathing is hard. Living is hard.
But there's no magic cure for making it all go away. There are only small steps upwards, an easier day, and a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.
The snow is melting. The darkness is fading. And I'm winning.