53
Alina
“Read it to me, Ali. I think it’s important to say the words out loud. Show her you have a voice of your own, and aren’t going to just stand idly by anymore while she comes and goes at will,” Kristie says, encouraging me from her brown leather chair, iPad in hand as always.
Kristie is hoping to convince me to read and share the letter I wrote while on the plane ride home two days ago. After leaving Slater and my friends, I was pissed at myself for fleeing, for running away, and so fucking angry at Her for interfering in my life once again. And for being the root of the reason I’ve given up on myself so many times in the past.
I’ve been home for three days now, and I’ve never felt better. I’ve attended group meetings as well as my individual therapy. Having met with Kristie twice, I’m ready to go back on the Consequence of Sound Tour. I feel ready to face my past and my future head on. I no longer feel like I’m running on that red line, waiting to see when I’ll stall out or urgently need to fill that empty sensation. Most of all, I’m ready to get back to Slater, and let him in fully. For the first time, I’m ready to take the reins of my life back for good.
I’ve also looked at a few posts on Sicken Union’s Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram pages, too, after Roxie sent me a text early one morning asking if I’d seen the reaction people are having to us missing the concert in Edmonton, and to the statement Victoria had released. At first I’d told Roxie “no”, knowing it could be a trigger for me, but then curiosity got the better of me and I caved. And it wasn’t at all what I was expecting, even knowing Slater had made good on his promise to have the pages monitored closely. The comments and outpouring of support were overwhelming. Hundreds and thousands of comments complimenting me on my strength, strangers telling me how they were on my side and in my corner, saying how they couldn’t wait to see me back onstage where I belong (and back with Slater, too, because we were so cute together), was mind-blowing. It made me feel happy realizing that—despite the bad—there was always going to be the good, as well. After a day of lurking the social media streams off and on, I decided to write my first post to thank everyone for all of their kind words, support, and understanding. It was a post that went viral within hours, and had Slater and the girls texting to tell me how much they wanted me back alongside them.
Taking a deep breath from my spot on the couch in Kristie’s office at Sheena’s Place, I open up the folded piece of paper, toss my grape gum in the trash, clear my throat, and steady myself to read the most personal letter I’ve ever written, knowing Kristie’s right and this will be cathartic. It will be drawing a final line in the sand against Her.
Dear Bully,
First, I want to thank you for being there when I needed you. You came when I was vulnerable and needed a friend, and I invited you in with open arms. For a long while, you became my only friend—soothing and comforting me when I felt I had no one else. You were there, with a sly smile and with praise when I needed it. We may have started off like acquaintances, you only coming when I needed you, when once in a while I’d turn to you for help. You remember, when I needed to get Liz off my back or fit into a certain dress, or wanted to indulge in everything I wanted to eat guilt-free? We were just acquaintances, until suddenly we were much more than that. I can’t pinpoint the exact date it happened, but as the years passed, you had become my best friend, coming around daily until I lost myself in you.
You became my everything—and then, you changed.
And changed me, too.
You turned your back on me, you broke me, and became the worst-kept secret of my life. You became the one voice I could never quiet. You made my hair fall out, my bones ache, and you were the “best friend” who encouraged me to punch myself in the stomach to make sure I had nothing left in there. You made me so fucking weak and tired, and still, like the good friend I was trying to be, I loved you.
But it wasn’t real love; I was addicted to you! Even when you became that taunting voice, echoing the words of my childhood—putting me down, always there to remind me of how fat, ugly, or awful I was—I still loved you, even as you broke my heart. You encouraged me to eat and eat; taught me to perfect shoving my fingers down my throat so I could feel better about me, so I’d never gain; you twisted the way I saw myself, making me believe I was never, ever going to be good enough. You made me believe those words like they were gospel, the way you replayed my mom’s and aunt’s comments on repeat, while holding me captive in your game. You never cared for me, you just wanted to hold me under your spell. You stole my self-control, my ability to see past your voice, robbing me of so many things in life, experiences I’ll never get back. And for that, I hate you. For that, we’re over.
The worst part, though? I let you. I’m the stupid one who welcomed you, but now it’s over. I know we’ve been together more or less since I was thirteen years old, and even though I’ll miss you and think of you from time to time, I’m letting you go. And I need you to release me from your clutches, too. Let me go willingly and stay away. Because, if not, there’ll be hell to pay this time around.
I’m not alone anymore. I have an army of people who care about me, support me and encourage me. People who make me feel and believe I’m enough. That I am worth it. And they’re all ready to fight alongside me, rather than against me like you did! It’s taken me a long time to realize that we were never really friends. It was just you consuming me, and I see that now. I’m ready to stand on my own two feet again.
So, fuck you, Bully, because I, Alina Jayne Cassidy, am so over this, so over you. There’s no more room for you inside of me. I am stronger than you now. I’m in control, and for the first time in years, I truly feel it’s over. We’re through. I know our parting won’t be easy, but I’ll never give in to you again. You don’t deserve me. I deserve love, not hate. I see that now, and I’m going after what I deserve. And this time, you are not invited.
Sincerely,
Alina
I finish reading as sobs start to wrack my body. Snot clogs my throat and tears sting my eyes, but then I break out in a fit of laughter.
“I feel free, Kristie. I finally feel free.”
“You are free, Alina. You are, believe it. And keep that letter close. Read it over whenever you think of her. You can do this, Alina.”