There’s another number that goes along with all of the rest that are neatly categorized within the multitude of numbers that make up the story of my own anorexia. That number is seven – seven years this month, since Dr. Riggs lost her battle to cancer.
If you’ve taught me anything, it’s that loving you was both my destruction, and my salvation. You might have broken me into pieces, and you may have very well destroyed part of who I used to be. But in the end, I saved myself. I put myself back together.
You wonder if it is fair to have loved a creature so very much, and at the same time, you wonder how it is fair to then have to live a life without them.
To the beautifully disastrous one: I loved you in a way that was hard and fast, unrelenting and unforgiving. We loved in a way that was destined to go up in flames, taunting fate every step of the way, daring her to defy us.
Your recovery is your own and no two stories will ever be the same.
Sometimes love isn’t enough. Love cannot always conquer all. Love cannot salvage every destruction. Sometimes love is the destroyer itself.