The saddest day I remember was yesterday. Yes, yesterday. Sitting there in the Doctor's office with my Father, hearing them words "You have Anorexia." Everything went in slow motion. Hard to take it all in.
I knew I had I problem. I knew I needed help, the mental torment was or should I say, is, horrific. "The physiatrist will be working closely with you." The Doctor was very matter of fact. I sat there and cried and cried. Was I going crazy? Was I already crazy? "Take these supplements, or you will die. Soon." the Doctor contined. I stared blankly at the wall. I felt small and ashamed. A disapointment. Dad grabbed my hand, vowing that we'd beat it. That made me feel worse.
It was a strange feeling, I wasn't too bothered by the fact that I was a walking skeleton, and that my heart could stop at any moment. I just wished I had a switch I could flick in my head to stop the terrible thoughts, and stop the worry I was causing other people.
I walked slowly behind my parents out of the Doctor's office and out onto the street. The sunlight made me squint. The drive home was emotional and awkward to say the least. Dad was crying and it was my fault. I was crying because, he was crying and it was my fault. Mum stared blankly out of the window, tears streaming down her face. My fault.
I cried myself to sleep last night as my mother nursed me in her arms. The saddest day of my life. One thing is very true. Everything passes. The saddest day of my life has passed. One thing I've learnt from it, everything can be fixed, and I'm going to beat this. There are many more sad days to endure, but yesterday was the saddest. A old part of me died, but I found a new strength.