The Heartbreaking End...

I've been faced with something that's been peeking at me for quite some time now, except now, it's staring me right in the face. It stares at me with its big, scary, yellow eyes, and I cower before it, afraid, lost, and sad... so sad. But not just sad for myself... sad for my family. I don't know anymore when I kiss my dog, my baby, goodnight, if it's the last kiss he'll ever get from me. I don't know anymore when I hug my family goodnight if it's our final one. And suddenly, the end stopped being a possibility and instead became a path. This, Dolls, is 'The Heartbreaking End'.

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The news

Last week, my cardiologist told my family and me that I was going to die. All of us, in that room, felt very clearly that this was the heartbreaking end because we knew that I was not in a place where a full recovery would happen. We all became aware that there was nothing else that could be done for me; no medications left to try, no doctors left to see, and no hospitals left to visit. We'd explored all avenues and faced the same repetitive outcome. Heartbreakingly, there wasn't anything left to try.

Nothing works for me, nothing heals me, and no hope finds me.

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How the news makes me feel

My dad asked me how the news made me feel. And then he emphasised the 'really', asking me how I really felt. But what he didn't know is that in that moment, nor in this one, can I describe how I feel with words. Being told that you're going to die is a lot of people's worst nightmare. Luckily, I'm not one of those people particularly frightened by death, but it still frightens me despite that because being told you're going to die is a frightening thing, especially when you're so young, and you haven't lived yet. And I haven't... lived yet. And the years that I have lived have been tainted by my horrible, evil illness, robbing my family and me of the moments of life that are special, memorable and exciting. SO, how do I feel? I feel alone because I don't know anybody else who can understand facing death at such a young age, but worse, they are facing it from their own actions. I feel guilty that I've done this to myself. I feel conflicted by the fact that I don't want to die, but also, equally, by the fact that I'm scared of change. And now I feel this immense boulder on my chest compressing me at all times of every day. The boulder is shame; shame for my illness, shame for what it's doing to people I love, and shame that I don't want to escape the prison I've chained myself up in. And I feel stupid because my coping mechanism to cope with the situation is the very thing that is the catalyst of the situation. I feel, currently, like a waste of space, like I'm occupying a corner of the world that I don't deserve. I feel, mostly, lost... lost to myself, lost to the world, lost in my path, lost in the views of practitioners and doctors and most solemnly so, lost to my family who don't know how to help me anymore.

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How it feels knowing the impact on my loved ones

My parents are completely and utterly heartbroken. That's not even a word that can describe the way I know and see how it's making them feel. It is eating them up like a ravenous animal. It is killing them in the same way it is killing me, except worse, because if they were me, they would change, and I won't. It feels tormenting, sticky, and black. And I don't just feel those things for and with them, I feel them inside myself, for myself, and by myself. I had a very close friend cry their heart out to me, in fear that the next time they would see my face, it would be in a picture of me, a tiny square in their wallet to remember me by. And I felt cruel, just sitting there, holding her hand, with the untrustingness that is my word and my absent actions. I felt and feel like the worst friend in the world. And truthfully, I can't look at her the same, not because of anything she's done, but because of the person I've become, the alien, the anorexic. It feels paradoxical to call myself a good person and to be failing at doing life to the immense extent that I am. I want to be better. I want to do better. But I do not know how to think better. My mind fails me, my own sick, sick, mind. But mostly, I spend my days not fearing the impact I currently have on them, but fearing the impact not being here will have on them. Because I know they'll look inside themselves and wonder what they could've done, blaming themselves for what they didn't do. And I won't be there to soothe them, to tell them that they were everything and more to me, that they are and will always be everything and more to me. I won't be there to tell them every second of every day how much I utterly adore them. I won't be there to wipe their tears when they cry. I won't be there to tell them everything will be okay, but I suppose I can't even do that, now, can I, Dolls? I aspire to be the daughter, friend, cousin, niece and granddaughter who can say 'I would do anything for you' but anorexia is so strong in my mind that I don't have the nobility, courage and grace to say and do the anything of eating. And that makes me ashamed of myself as a person. For I aspire to be that good, that loving, and that brave. I see them suffering, and the one thing I can do to ease it is the one thing that's the hardest for me to do in the world. So it feels devastating and frustrating. But as I say, Dolls, mostly I just feel ashamed.

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The heartbreaking end is truly the end. I fear that I can't use the term 'forever' anymore. I fear my own mind. I fear my emotions, coupled with everybody else's. I'm so very afraid, Dolls, of who I know myself to have become. For I am a danger to myself. My grandpa once told me, 'Luka, if you die before me, I'll kill you, ' to which I'm now saying, 'Bapa, I will always love you, no matter what.'

Kisses,

COS x