I gave up on her. Those 5 words will haunt me forever. I gave up on her. It still kills me. It kills me because even though I thought I was doing the right thing, theres still that little part of me that says that maybe I could have done something, anything, to change what happened.
Abby developed anorexia a little over a year ago, but none of us really noticed. It wasn't like there were any glaring signs. She didn't eat at lunch, but neither did most kids. And yeah, she was skinny, but she'd always been that way. It wasn't like she'd lost huge amounts of weight or anything.
You know, I might be okay with it if she was really gone. But its the fact that shes still here and that I cant reach her. Its that empty look in her eyes when I smile at her. Its that pain that shoots down my spine when she brushes past me like I dont exist. Thats what really hurts.
I think the first big clue that something was wrong was when Abby started hurting people, especially the ones closest to her. She kept pushing me away, and she broke up with her boyfriend, Andrew, for no apparent reason. But I never equated it to her having anorexia. That was the last thing on my mind when she started treating me badly.
You know, its weird, but I think that I still feel sympathy pains for her. I remember when we were younger and she would hurt herself dancing. I would always know before she told me because I would feel the same pain she felt. Now I wake up in the middle of the night, sweating, with my stomach in knots, and I look over at her picture on my nightstand and I know that wherever she is, shes hurting, too.
I kept trying to figure out why Abby was treating me so badly. At first I thought it was something I was doing or saying, but no matter how I changed, nothing helped. I finally realized that whatever was going on had nothing to do with me, but anorexia continued to be the last thing on my mind. I was entirely too busy being angry with Abby for deserting me to think that anorexia could possibly have anything to do with it. I eventually became so frustrated at feeling insufficient when I was around her that I gave up trying.
There are days when Ill pick up the phone and dial her number, even though she never answers the phone anymore. I just want to hear her voice on the answering machine. Its the voice she used to have, the voice that was full of life. Now its dead. It says the same words, but they dont mean anything now.
Looking back, giving up was probably the worst thing I could do, but I was just so jaded, so worn out from trying to reach the old Abby. I missed her, but I knew that even if I continued to be her best friend, I would still miss her. She was so much different now than she'd been before. The old Abby was gone, and there was a new, unfeeling, cold Abby in her place.
I wish she knew what she was doing. I wish she knew how many people she was hurting, and how much shes hurting herself. I wish that there was something I could say, something I could do, to show her that. Or even just to show her that I still care about her, that I still love her.
Now that I realize what is happening to Abby, it's too late. On the rare instances when she even talks to me, her face is cold and her voice is empty, and I know that wherever
the real Abby is, I can't reach her. I'm pretty sure that there isn't much anyone can do at this point. Abby is so sick, so frail and fragile. There's probably little hope of a physical recovery even if someone could reach her emotionally. Her parents know, and so does her psychologist, but nothing's helping, not medication or therapy or feeding tubes, and I think everyone knows that.
Shes gone, and Im pretty sure shes not coming back. And thats going to hurt for a really, really long time. Probably forever. I always thought that people with anorexia got better. Thats what they used to tell me. But they lied. Theres no cute anecdote that will make me feel better, no medicine to make her healthy again. I guess thats how real life works out sometimes. There just arent any happy endings.
I try not to think about Abby anymore. It hurts too much. As much as I wish she would get better, I've prepared myself to face the fact that she probably won't. Anorexia took away my best friend, and it isn't as if I have any means of revenge. But I guess that soon, Abby won't feel any more pain. She deserves that, at least. You want to know the real truth about anorexia?
Anorexia murders.
There you have it. That's pretty much the only truth I can offer. But maybe, just maybe, there's some other truth hidden inside Abby. And I guess it's worth one more try...because I'd really like to find another truth.
Tags:
anorexia Life self-abuse Weight 
