I thought everything was going to be okay. That by the time this happened, I'd know what to do. I'd know how to breathe. I'd know how to keep moving on. The world doesn't stop. It never stops. It keeps spinning, even though she's not here.
I don't understand how this all happens. How we do this. I don't. I don't know how to be okay anymore.
Everyone asks how you are. Everyone says they're sorry and, God, I do appreciate it, but there is no okay and words have stopped meaning anything. There words for the feeling. It's just this aching gaping hole where there used to be something vital. And then moments of silence. Where I'm not even there. Where people talk to me and I don't hear them, because it's just a string of moments. A string of moments that don't mean anything because she's not here.
I think if I just stop that everything is going to pass me by. That it'll mean that she's really gone. That I'll forget how she smelled or what her favorite flowers were or how she loved Love Story. That I might forget. That I might just forget.
I'm furious with her for this. And I don't even feel that anymore. Maybe it's not about being furious, but completely and utterly heartbroken that she couldn't love me more than she hated herself. It feels this worse this way. It feels so much worse this way. I wanted her to hold on for me. For me or anyone else, but just to hold on.
She'll never see me graduate or get married or have children. Or any of the other things she's supposed to be there for. There's nothing in this life that can fill that hole. Life will go on, but she won't.
I love you, mom. I love you more than anything. I won't ever be whole without you.
Thank you all for the kind words, kind words, phone calls, e-mails, comments, everything, right now I'm not in any shape to reply. You all are amazing people and I couldn't do this without you. The best thing you can do for me, do in honor of my mother, is write about Anorexia Awareness in your journals and pass it around.
Keep it going. Whether it be a memory of someone you know, my memory or information. But keep it going. Post it in any communities that allow it. Leave a link here of any posts you make or see. There are wonderful websites out there for information and, if you can, donate to NEDA
My mother was 52 years old. She was 52 years old and less than 50 pounds. This is more than a tragedy, it's a catastrophe.
This entry will be left public for those who want to link to it. If you want to share your experiences, everything, with me.
I love you all.
P.S. An extra thanks to my friends atomic_eyes
who have already started making posts.