Une Fleure Fanée

Epilogue

     Ah, Kennywood. The monumental place where whenever we pass by, we'll remind ourselves of this long and hard journey. Of course, Sarah isn't here. She was invited, but Michelle had a schedule conflict and wasn't willing to make an effort for Sarah to come.

     We're all wearing the same yellow dresses with white flowers. Brady's wearing the same pattern on a shirt. We all take photos near this pavilion to remember it, and we're off. Brady and Pressley go running to the roller coasters.

     Mom is still making me have my feeding tube in, and since we're not allowed to bring food in the parks, and I'm not going to eat much fair food, she's just making me have liquid food with a doctor's note, which was basically her note.

     I pair up with Gia and Paris again. We're amusement park buddies. The three of us are all gravely afraid of heights. I'm still not over what Joanne said in the dressing room, but forgive and forget is the motto for a reality TV show. The blinding lights of all the rides around me are fun to see.

     This is a really fun goodbye. I'm going to miss all of these kids so much. We came in as strangers. We ended up being family. One close-knit family that will never break apart. Which is why I can't die.

     When Mom had realized I skipped three meals on the bus ride, once I woke up on our final day in the apartment, she sat me down and told me that I'm at a place where if I don't try, I could die. And I can't break apart my family, my Fayetteville dance family, or my Pittsburgh dance family.

     Slowly, the sun comes down and the moon goes up. Everybody goes to get humongous ice cream cones. I still want to participate. I don't want to be the black sheep. But anorexia won't let me.

     I ate ice cream earlier this week and I hated it. I've counted up all my fear foods, including ice cream. Twenty-six fear foods. I want to get over them by next year. If there's another season of Dance Moms, I want to get over them before we start filming.

     I sit around without ice cream at the table, and Ms. Abby goes into a big speech about the journey. I try to hold on to every word she says, but I also want to reflect on my own journey.

     Week one was confusing, but pretty good. Week two was a little worse. Week three was even worse. Week four was when I started restricting. Week six was when I started the official diet. Week eight is when I started cutting. Week nine is when my friends found out. Week fifteen is when I nearly died. Week seventeen is when I was drugged. Week eighteen is when we succeeded at Nationals.

     Knowing that all of our flights are tomorrow and we'll never see each other again for at least a couple of months, we all start sobbing and hugging each other. If I had one word to sum up this experience, it would be memorable. Each season was life-altering, but this one is different. I wasn't dancing with Brynn, who had been there for a year, I was dancing with newbies. I was the Brynn.

     I know that this recovery is going to be so hard. I'm going to cry, I'm going to relapse, I'm probably going to want to kill myself. Added with a potential attempted murder trial, it's going to be one of the hardest patches in my life. But I think I can do it. I've done it before.

     So come on anorexia, give me your worst. I'll be able to fight your hell.

~~~~~