We broke up six months later because of me. I was unhappy even then, even when I was blissfully happy with him. I was already deeply into my cutting and starving. I knew enough to keep that hidden from him at first, and then I slowly forgot. I began to confide in him how I felt, my inability to function, what I was driven to do to myself. It upset him. He was harsh with me – harsh for him, anyway. ‘You can’t complain about feeling bad, about being depressed, if you aren’t trying to sleep, trying to eat, trying to care about yourself.’ I found this outrageous.
