Saturday and Sunday are a blur of covers and pulled curtains, of staggering to the bathroom to brush my teeth when I can't stand my breath any longer and sneaking snacks from under my bed where I left my stash of chips and chocolate.

It's a terrible thing to find out your whole life is a construct you created to protect yourself from the fact you were a weakling who let someone bully you into being a fraud. It hurts. A lot. For a long time. Unless you wallow. Then, it can go ...