Differences

Chapter 32 - Luke

New Chapter!!!

Hey guys!!! This chapter is something I think everyone was waiting for. But I must warn it is a very heavy topic/theme so please read the warning carefully. I only want you guys to read for comfort/entertainment and enjoy reading.

Also, I know I keep writing this up but this chapter is very, very long (a little over 2800 words). So like always, I do recommend reading this chapter when you have plenty of time on your hands.😚🪄

Warning: within this chapter, the idea of eating disorder, specifically anorexia nervosa is mentioned. Consequently, ideas of body dysmorphia, self-hatred, body negativity, body shaming is also mentioned. This chapter also explores loss and grief. 

Please, please, please take care of yourselves and read what is most comfortable for you.

Thank you guys for loving this story so much, I am always surprised to wake up from so many supportive comments and your love for this story. It genuinely means so much for me. 🧸💝

I hope you continue to enjoy your reading time!!!⏳🕯️🍀

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Anorexia Nervosa.

Why hadn't I realise sooner? Why hadn't I collect all the ques?

Her request to eat by herself, her baggy clothes, slow pulse, her need to overexercise. Why the hell did I not realise? It was so obvious; I should've been able to realise. I should've been able to do something about it sooner.

She's stable now, or at least that was what I was told, but that gave me no reassurance. I couldn't leave her. Every single cell within me yelled at me to stay by her side. Stick to her. Otherwise . . .  I felt as though she would dissolve away, leaving me. And I was, I am, scared. So fucking scared. I was so damn afraid of losing her.

I hadn't realised till she collapsed in my arms that I needed her more than she'd ever need me.

The idea of losing her? I couldn't even begin to process.

I continue to monitor each and every single breath she took like a hyper fixated child while she slept. The even in and out of air, and the steady rise and fall of chest, being the only things managing to keep me sane enough not to leave my fingers on her pulse and bother her.

But if I wasn't watching her, I drowned myself in countless journal articles, books, medical reports, anything I could lay my hands on to understand this condition.

At first glance, it seemed simple. People not liking the way they look, leading them to diet or overexercise, and hence fall into the cycle that goes beyond healthy. But as I continue to look through countless materials, it was nothing remotely as simple as that.

Although the idea that people believed they didn't look or feel 'good enough', seemed to be a constant theme, everyone had different experiences and different reasons as to why they fell into this mentally straining cycle. Different reasons meant different ways of coping, different ways understanding and different ways of recovering.

The conclusion was that I could only help her if she was willing to try. Try to recover This was also another constant theme. People needed to be willing to try. Otherwise. . .  it would be close to pointless.

But I wanted her to. I wanted her to try so badly. I wanted to live with her for as long as I could. For as long as we could, together.

I begin to think of ways to approach this to her as well as ideas that could be put in place for her to trust me and trust the process. But I couldn't come up with any suitable way of approaching this conversation.