June Blogger Challenge: Day 19 — Tears

I've cried so many tears in the past year. Tears of despair. Hurt. Pain.

Waking up each morning, wishing I would die so the pain would stop. I was tired. Tired of the eating disorder voice hammering at me all the time, telling me that I didn't deserve to eat, that I was fat, that I deserved to starve . . . I just wanted it all to stop, but anorexia is a slow killer.

Too slow.

Then tears when my husband left me. Not once. Not twice. Three times. I was frightened to be alone, afraid of . . .

That I would always be alone.
That no one could ever love me.
That I would die alone.

So many tears . . .

So many tears that I couldn't stop, so I continuously filled a wine goblet — I used one with snow-covered pine trees, so Christmasy and reminiscent of happier times — with wine, as much wine as I could drink, anything to stave off the pain.

To stop the tears.

Often I would stumble to the couch, passing out, only to awake and start it all over again

The tears stopped after my last hospitalization in December.

I didn't know what happened. Why couldn't I cry, damn it!?! Everything had fallen spectacularly apart, blowing up in my face, so why no more tears?

A calmness settled over me.

Then, about a week ago, I struggled not to cry. What was the cause?

I don't know.
But I'm glad to know that the tears are still there, just in check.

And I'm glad I'm no longer crying constantly.