I have two voices and only one mouth. I don't know what to do with that, generally. The extra words get caught in my throat, in my stomach; they make me feel queasy and ill again, but I've finished applying my index finger to that equation. Every day now, for over eighteen months, I've kept safe again. I quit and quit and quit every day, again. Both voices appreciate this. Both voices listen to other people talk about eating disorders and want to talk back. One rages while the other cries; one challenges where the other comforts. Or rather, that's what would happen if they could act simultaneously, which they can't. Typically, they circle each other and leave my shoulders heavy, and my eyes anticipating tears that may take days to come. At any given time, I want to use both voices. Too often, I choose to stay silent. I choose neither.

I don't know how to choose both. I don't know how to integrate them, if they're equally valid. I worked so hard to manage one voice, and now I'm juggling two. And I don't know what to do with them. Give them outlets. Try not to let them overrun every bit of who I am. Try not to let them run the show. I don't know if that will ever be enough.

If I hear one more time that you don't feel thin, or you think you're ugly, or you just can't stand the thought of being fat...

I think I'll cry. Because I remember that. And you don't deserve it. You really don't deserve any of this pain. You're such a worthwhile, amazing person.

Your life is so important. You don't have time to screw around like this, to risk it.

And I know it's the hardest thing in the world, but what are we going to do without you? I know it's the hardest thing in the world to even start, to even consider, but it just isn't possible to live with this disease. It's not possible...

You're not ready for recovery? What is that? You don't have the time to hesitate. Don't you realize that? Don't you realize that even if you start fighting now and give it everything you have, you still might not win? You have to start fighting.

I'm so scared to lose you. I'm so scared to lose another person to this illness. I'm so scared to face what a huge and impossible epidemic this is. Please, please don't die.

Get into therapy. Now. Get into therapy, quit bullshitting yourself, start doing the work. It will be hard, and you will be stronger. You don't need to worry about that. Just start damnit, and start now. Start now because when you're relying on a second chance, you may have just used your third.

If I could just think of a way to tell you, to articulate how much better it will be. I mean truly better. If I could only help you understand how good you can feel in your life.

I can't do this for you. And that's no excuse on my part. I'd give fucking anything to make it untrue. I would so take away all your power, do it for you. I would be so quick, and I guess you should be glad that I don't have that power because it wouldn't be good for you, to hand everything over to me. And I should be glad because it wouldn't be good for me either, but you know what? I'm not glad. I'm angry, and I'm scared, and I just want to scream: How can you do this to me!? How can you keep this up, knowing how much it hurts me?

I would never tell you that. Not having heard it so much myself. God, I would never talk to you that way.

I just love you.

I guess that's how it goes when you've been the one dying and the one left behind to grieve...

Mary

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