I asked my therapist to give back the letter you wrote me about all the reasons we should get back together. As she handed it back I told her that I was going to rip it up, and I did just that without even looking at your perfect handwriting. I did it without reading your reasons. I just ripped it up and threw it away.
You wanted to claim victory about getting me to go back to therapy, but all you did was make my eating disorder worse. I was angry when you said that you were the reason I went back because there’s nothing that you could have done to force me through those doors to confront the things I was terrified to talk about. You encouraged it, but I made the decision to go.
I’m not fully recovered, I’m still a ways away from that. But I’m happy and I’m eating without punishing myself. I’ve discovered things about myself that I didn’t know before and I’m preparing myself to enter into a relationship with a man that doesn’t objectify me or treat me as his possession.
My life isn’t a tragedy, and my recovery isn’t your victory. It’s mine and mine alone.