I know this might make me sound like a jerk, but one thing I've learned through the last five years recovering from my eating disorder is that RECOVERY IS A CHOICE. Believe me, in the depths of my obsession I would tell the doctors, family, and friends that they didn't understand, this wasn't my fault, I couldn't stop..."I'm sick". The truth is I was sick, very sick. Developing and eating disorder is NOT a choice, it is a disease that kills without prejudice. I never once sat down and said, "I think I want to be anorexic" or "I am going to throw up from now on". Developing the disease is absolutely not a choice, but overcoming it is.
I spent years playing the "victim", I sat in hospital beds being nourished by a tube down my nose and hydrated by an IV in my arm, content that this was out of my control. I was in my first treatment center as a teenager, I was there because my parents wanted me there, and though the whole team tried to help me I wasn't ready to help myself. I ate to get out, I learned what to say, how to smile, and how to work the system. I was a walking, talking eating disorder there was nothing else on my mind except my eating disorder. Whenever they put me in the hospital I turned into a toddler, arguing about everything, refusing food, turning my tube feeds off, exercising, and having full blown meltdowns that resembled temper tantrums my son throws at three. I can't tell you how many times I would fold my arms across my chest and say, "You can't make me"!
Everyone told me that I was the only one who could fix this, and I would scoff telling them that I couldn't do it. Part of me wanted to be fixed, I wanted them to cure me without me actually having to put forth any effort. My doctor was an amazing, very caring man who began taking care of me when I was 19 and at college. I put this poor man through the ringer for three years, every week he saw me, and every week I was worse. He kept me alive when I couldn't or wouldn't keep myself alive. One day he came in to my hospital room and flat out said, "If I am the only one that cares about you getting better I might as well just send you over to adult psych, and you can spend your life as a "chronic anorexic". I started crying hysterically, begging him not to drop me, and he flat out told me if I didn't make an effort he wasn't going to have a choice. I think that was one of the first times I realized that I couldn't shove the responsibility of my recovery/life on everyone else.
It took me eight years of battling my disorder before I made my mind up that I had to recover. During those years I would half way try recovery, for a couple months I would be "stable", and eat like I was suppose to only for it all to unravel very quickly. Every failure solidified the lie in my head that I was beyond hope, obviously I will never recover. I made excuses, accepted that this was my life, and gave up. The fact is none of that was true, I was terrified of recovery, terrified of not having my eating disorder. My identity became Andrea the anorexic/purger/cutter, so if I gave all that up who would I be?
When I hit rock bottom after a suicide attempt I realized that I had two options...recovery or death. It was not an overnight metamorphosis by any means, it was a long journey full of set backs. I reached out to my boyfriend (now my husband) and told him that I needed help because on my own I would for sure fail again. His job was to snap me back to reality when the lies started screaming in my head again, when I would fight eating, or try to be sneaky he held me accountable. He didn't fix me, let me make that clear, he supported me as I sought out to fix myself. I had meltdowns, I cried when clothes didn't fit right, I would fall into body checking rituals, and I would journal the horrible thoughts that were racing through my brain. I had to do something I hadn't done in years...be completely honest. For so long it was all smoke in mirrors, the smiles, assurances that I was eating and not purging, not cutting, and the list goes on. I had to learn how to put it all out there, and I had to do the one thing that I had been trying to avoid for years....FEEL. My life revolved around numbers, restricting, purging, cutting, and anything to avoid the real issues behind it all.
Believe me when I say the ED clung tighter as I fought to beat it, the screaming, and the lies got louder. My skin would crawl, and I would have irrational thoughts that if I ate a piece of toast I could feel my stomach growing. For months you could see the struggle, you couldn't have a conversation with me without seeing me fidget or obsessively hit my hip bones. It took more strength than I thought I had to get through the days, I often took it an hour at a time to not get overwhelmed. It has been five years and I dare not say that I am recovered because I'm not. My recovery is a process, and there are moments when that voice breaks through and I start to panic. The only difference now is that have the ability to realize that what my head is telling me is untrue. I have safety measures in place...I do not know my weight, my doctors do not discuss body size, I do not wear jeans, and my husband will not even acknowledge when I ask questions like, "Do you think I've gained weight"? It is a fight, but a fight that is worth it.
The only way to beat an eating disorder is finally decide that your life is completely out of control, and realize that you WILL DIE if you don't break free. Believe me I know the voice in your head telling you that you aren't strong enough to do it, or that you can't possibly survive without the protection of your disease. I know how scary it is to accept an identity that doesn't involve being sick. The fact is that you can have the best doctors, the best treatment center, the most supportive friends and family, but if you aren't willing to fight you are never going to get any better. The only person who can make the choice is you. I didn't understand that when I was a teenager, the doctor who diagnosed me with anorexia told me flat out, "I'm not going to argue with you because you are going to win every time, and you are going to be the one dead". As a kid I rolled my eyes, but now I see how right she was. This is a fight, a fight for life...a life that you deserve. You didn't make the choice to develop an eating disorder, but you can make the choice to defeat the eating disorder.
Sunday, January 19, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
Looking the other way
Have you ever seen something that you knew was wrong, but looked the other way, pretending not to notice? I'm sure we're all guilty of it at some point in life, most of the time it is something small, and you are probably doing the person a favor by not saying anything. But, what about those times when you should say something and don't, is it your responsibility to open your mouth about other people's business?
If you would have asked me that question ten years ago my answer was simple..."mind your own business". My reasoning was simple, ten years ago I was starving, purging, cutting, and trying to hide the abuse my alcoholic mom was inflicting at home. I didn't want anyone looking closer into anything I was doing because I had to protect my secrets, and I loved my mom and didn't want anyone to think badly of her. At seventeen years old I thought I knew what was best and anyone who tried to tell me different was just trying to cause me problems. My friends approached me first about the scars, about the fact that I was never eating. We were kids, taught from a young age not to be "tattle tales" so they tried to help by not saying anything and telling me I needed to eat, or chasing me around with food. That lasted for a little while before a friend finally looked at me one morning and said, "eat something or I'm going to tell". I rolled my eyes thinking there was no way he was going to rat me out, and even if he did I had myself under control. He made good on his word, first by putting a note under the door of the music office (a note that I slyly conned the choir teacher into believing I had written and needed to get back), so he spoke to our band director face to face. Now, he picked that specific teacher because he had known me for six years and spent a lot of time with me given I devoted every spare second to music. Looking back, I'm happy he picked that teacher because any other teacher would have approached me the wrong way about it and made things worse.
Now, I would be lying if I said that I wasn't angry after our first hour practice when P told me he needed to talk to me during my independent study unit. My next two hours were spent trying to figure out what I was going to say to cover myself, and anger at my friend for spreading my business around. Now, I got away with it that day...my teacher confronted me about my eating, told me he was going to have my guidance counselor talk to me, and they were going to keep an eye on things. Cutting wasn't brought up, and both my guidance counselor and teachers were going to watch for awhile before jumping on the eating disorder band wagon. I breathed a sigh of relief, and told my friend that I was fine. People needed to stop focusing on everything I did, now everywhere I turned I had eyes watching me around food causing me more stress. I would go home, bad things would happen with my mom, I would feel like I was nothing, and I started cutting more and more. It wasn't just scars on my arms, so I switched to long sleeves and jackets to hide my troubled nights. It worked really well to hide everything, including my weight loss...for awhile.
It was October when more friends "betrayed me" (which was how I looked at it during that time). They had seen a gash on my arm when my shirt came up while I was playing. When they confronted me I told them the same thing I told everyone, "mind your own business". That night after our practice I saw these two friends standing outside talking to P after practice, they made eye contact for about three seconds...I knew. My fears were confirmed the next day when I was called to the counselor and told to take off my hooded...there I was starved and covered with cuts. I remember she took me down to the band office with P, and I lashed out at first telling them that this was none of their business and they needed to leave me alone. The teacher who was like a dad to me looked at me and said, "We care too much about you to leave you alone". I was angry for a very long time, had to move all the way to Warrenton with my dad, commute to school, I wasn't with my little sister anymore, I was diagnosed with anorexia, and the year of high school that was suppose to be fun and carefree was me being watched every second with threats of hospitals if I didn't eat. I didn't think anyone had a right to stick their nose in my business, but by not looking the other way they saved my life. Because of caring people willing to risk being on the receiving of my anger, possibly losing my friendship spoke up.
Ten years later I will tell you my answer has changed a hundred percent. In my opinion, if you see someone in a bad situation whether it be addiction, criminal, or some kind of abuse it is your obligation as a human being not to look the other way. I found out after everything in my life went public that there were at least three other teachers that had seen bruises on me, seen fresh cuts, and knew about my "eating difficulties"...not one of them said a word. I spent most of my time with my band directors, so I was very careful to hide everything, but in other classes I wasn't as careful because I figured since I never stood out much they didn't notice. The second both of my band directors found out about my problems they went out of their way to look after me whether it was spending time talking if I looked upset, watching for new cuts, and even buying me food and sitting with me while I ate. There were THREE other teachers who knew from the beginning and looked the other way. By not confronting me I was able to starve myself that much longer, able to lose more weight, able to tear open my skin that many more times, and let me hide the nightmare at home that much longer. I don't blame them, they were minding their own business...most of us go out of our way to look the other way.
When you see a person covered in bruises obviously caused by someone else, and you don't open your mouth you are only allowing them to be hurt more. When you have a friend who is hurting themselves, and look the other way you are only allowing them to get worse. Most of the time people say that they don't want to make their friend angry, or even lose the friendship completely. If the person dies you are going to lose that friendship anyway. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't livid when my friends and teachers stuck their nose in my business allowing all my secrets to be exposed. I was angry at my friend when she found me the night I attempted suicide, and called 911. I've screamed at people, told them how they betrayed me, and even cut off communication with them in the past. I can tell you now that I have gone back and thanked all of those people for not looking the other way, for fighting to save me when I didn't want to save myself. I am alive today because people didn't look the other way. I wonder how many people have lost their lives because no one felt the responsibility to speak up? It is amazing the things that can happen if you just take the time to help others. I've heard countless stories over the years of people who were on the brink of suicide, to the point they were holding the gun or the pill bottles, and a friend calls them or stops by, and confronts the person. Sometimes all we need is someone to see us, to acknowledge that they know we aren't okay, and to feel like we aren't so alone. Turning a blind eye only causes more pain and more loss.
If you would have asked me that question ten years ago my answer was simple..."mind your own business". My reasoning was simple, ten years ago I was starving, purging, cutting, and trying to hide the abuse my alcoholic mom was inflicting at home. I didn't want anyone looking closer into anything I was doing because I had to protect my secrets, and I loved my mom and didn't want anyone to think badly of her. At seventeen years old I thought I knew what was best and anyone who tried to tell me different was just trying to cause me problems. My friends approached me first about the scars, about the fact that I was never eating. We were kids, taught from a young age not to be "tattle tales" so they tried to help by not saying anything and telling me I needed to eat, or chasing me around with food. That lasted for a little while before a friend finally looked at me one morning and said, "eat something or I'm going to tell". I rolled my eyes thinking there was no way he was going to rat me out, and even if he did I had myself under control. He made good on his word, first by putting a note under the door of the music office (a note that I slyly conned the choir teacher into believing I had written and needed to get back), so he spoke to our band director face to face. Now, he picked that specific teacher because he had known me for six years and spent a lot of time with me given I devoted every spare second to music. Looking back, I'm happy he picked that teacher because any other teacher would have approached me the wrong way about it and made things worse.
Now, I would be lying if I said that I wasn't angry after our first hour practice when P told me he needed to talk to me during my independent study unit. My next two hours were spent trying to figure out what I was going to say to cover myself, and anger at my friend for spreading my business around. Now, I got away with it that day...my teacher confronted me about my eating, told me he was going to have my guidance counselor talk to me, and they were going to keep an eye on things. Cutting wasn't brought up, and both my guidance counselor and teachers were going to watch for awhile before jumping on the eating disorder band wagon. I breathed a sigh of relief, and told my friend that I was fine. People needed to stop focusing on everything I did, now everywhere I turned I had eyes watching me around food causing me more stress. I would go home, bad things would happen with my mom, I would feel like I was nothing, and I started cutting more and more. It wasn't just scars on my arms, so I switched to long sleeves and jackets to hide my troubled nights. It worked really well to hide everything, including my weight loss...for awhile.
It was October when more friends "betrayed me" (which was how I looked at it during that time). They had seen a gash on my arm when my shirt came up while I was playing. When they confronted me I told them the same thing I told everyone, "mind your own business". That night after our practice I saw these two friends standing outside talking to P after practice, they made eye contact for about three seconds...I knew. My fears were confirmed the next day when I was called to the counselor and told to take off my hooded...there I was starved and covered with cuts. I remember she took me down to the band office with P, and I lashed out at first telling them that this was none of their business and they needed to leave me alone. The teacher who was like a dad to me looked at me and said, "We care too much about you to leave you alone". I was angry for a very long time, had to move all the way to Warrenton with my dad, commute to school, I wasn't with my little sister anymore, I was diagnosed with anorexia, and the year of high school that was suppose to be fun and carefree was me being watched every second with threats of hospitals if I didn't eat. I didn't think anyone had a right to stick their nose in my business, but by not looking the other way they saved my life. Because of caring people willing to risk being on the receiving of my anger, possibly losing my friendship spoke up.
Ten years later I will tell you my answer has changed a hundred percent. In my opinion, if you see someone in a bad situation whether it be addiction, criminal, or some kind of abuse it is your obligation as a human being not to look the other way. I found out after everything in my life went public that there were at least three other teachers that had seen bruises on me, seen fresh cuts, and knew about my "eating difficulties"...not one of them said a word. I spent most of my time with my band directors, so I was very careful to hide everything, but in other classes I wasn't as careful because I figured since I never stood out much they didn't notice. The second both of my band directors found out about my problems they went out of their way to look after me whether it was spending time talking if I looked upset, watching for new cuts, and even buying me food and sitting with me while I ate. There were THREE other teachers who knew from the beginning and looked the other way. By not confronting me I was able to starve myself that much longer, able to lose more weight, able to tear open my skin that many more times, and let me hide the nightmare at home that much longer. I don't blame them, they were minding their own business...most of us go out of our way to look the other way.
When you see a person covered in bruises obviously caused by someone else, and you don't open your mouth you are only allowing them to be hurt more. When you have a friend who is hurting themselves, and look the other way you are only allowing them to get worse. Most of the time people say that they don't want to make their friend angry, or even lose the friendship completely. If the person dies you are going to lose that friendship anyway. I would be lying if I said that I wasn't livid when my friends and teachers stuck their nose in my business allowing all my secrets to be exposed. I was angry at my friend when she found me the night I attempted suicide, and called 911. I've screamed at people, told them how they betrayed me, and even cut off communication with them in the past. I can tell you now that I have gone back and thanked all of those people for not looking the other way, for fighting to save me when I didn't want to save myself. I am alive today because people didn't look the other way. I wonder how many people have lost their lives because no one felt the responsibility to speak up? It is amazing the things that can happen if you just take the time to help others. I've heard countless stories over the years of people who were on the brink of suicide, to the point they were holding the gun or the pill bottles, and a friend calls them or stops by, and confronts the person. Sometimes all we need is someone to see us, to acknowledge that they know we aren't okay, and to feel like we aren't so alone. Turning a blind eye only causes more pain and more loss.
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Voice of a monster
*I wrote this years ago when I was still very much battling my eating disorder and self harm. I was in and out of hospitals, constantly needing medical intervention to keep myself alive, they had put a surgical feeding tube in hoping to keep me nourished out of the hospital, and I was feeling very defeated. At this point I knew how sick I was, the rose colored glasses that convinced me there wasn't anything wrong had been shattered, and yet I couldn't let the compulsion go.*
You won't hear my voice or see my shape, you are both blind and deaf to my frigid wrath. My lies will slowly, and quietly creep into your head, convincing you that no could love you the way you are...you need me. The first lie is simple enough, "You are fat", if you believe that then the harder lies will follow, "You are worthless", "A failure", "You deserve pain", and the list goes on and on until the only thing you see in the mirror is an image that you hate. Before you know it, I've convinced you that the only cure to these feelings is for you to disappear...you believe me.
It will begin very slow and steady. At first, I will allow you the illusion that you are the one in charge, your naivety makes me laugh. We will start by taking away all those foods that you love like chocolate, pizza, and ice cream...they will make you disgusting, stop complaining, you want this! Next, I replace your friends, family, school, work...your life with the need to run, do crunches, sweat until there is nothing left inside you. Your whole day will depend on that tiny needle inside the scale, if it drops you smile and continue your usual torture. If it remains the same, or goes up there will be consequences...there will be pain for your lack of faith and drive.
How dare you be so weak, how dare you break my rules? Did you think I wouldn't notice you eating and drinking, falling out on runs early? What punishment seems fitting for your failures? You may wretch over the toilet until you bring blood out to prove that you are empty. You could swallow those laxatives you saw at the store, but you have no money...do you dare become a thief to protect what I've given you? You make me sick, you really are the worthless slob everyone thinks you are, and you need a permanent reminder of that. Go to your room, you know exactly where it is hidden, your sharp pain reliever. This time is different though, you need the reminder, once you find that fresh, clean piece of flesh you will carve the word "FAT" into your body. This will be a constant, stinging reminder when you think to defy me again.
You are beginning to catch on, I see it in your eyes, the pain as you try to fight back against my will...you've realized you belong to me. All that time I let you believe you were the master of all this, ,it was all lies. You fell for my promises of beauty and perfection without a thought for the price I would require in the end. You are hollow, I've carved out everything that use to make you a person, and replaced it with the compulsion to destroy yourself. It wasn't my fingers down your throat, my stomach begging for nourishment, and it wasn't my blood rushing out of your arms. I gave you everything you could possibly want, and now you cry like you didn't know this was going to happen, you didn't think I would take your breath too. No one can help you now, and if you try to reach out I am going to pull you back down. I've given you everything you wanted, how dare you not be grateful?
"Who am I and why do I do this"? That is a simple enough question...My names are anorexia and bulimia, and to put it simply...YOU LET ME!
You won't hear my voice or see my shape, you are both blind and deaf to my frigid wrath. My lies will slowly, and quietly creep into your head, convincing you that no could love you the way you are...you need me. The first lie is simple enough, "You are fat", if you believe that then the harder lies will follow, "You are worthless", "A failure", "You deserve pain", and the list goes on and on until the only thing you see in the mirror is an image that you hate. Before you know it, I've convinced you that the only cure to these feelings is for you to disappear...you believe me.
It will begin very slow and steady. At first, I will allow you the illusion that you are the one in charge, your naivety makes me laugh. We will start by taking away all those foods that you love like chocolate, pizza, and ice cream...they will make you disgusting, stop complaining, you want this! Next, I replace your friends, family, school, work...your life with the need to run, do crunches, sweat until there is nothing left inside you. Your whole day will depend on that tiny needle inside the scale, if it drops you smile and continue your usual torture. If it remains the same, or goes up there will be consequences...there will be pain for your lack of faith and drive.
How dare you be so weak, how dare you break my rules? Did you think I wouldn't notice you eating and drinking, falling out on runs early? What punishment seems fitting for your failures? You may wretch over the toilet until you bring blood out to prove that you are empty. You could swallow those laxatives you saw at the store, but you have no money...do you dare become a thief to protect what I've given you? You make me sick, you really are the worthless slob everyone thinks you are, and you need a permanent reminder of that. Go to your room, you know exactly where it is hidden, your sharp pain reliever. This time is different though, you need the reminder, once you find that fresh, clean piece of flesh you will carve the word "FAT" into your body. This will be a constant, stinging reminder when you think to defy me again.
You are beginning to catch on, I see it in your eyes, the pain as you try to fight back against my will...you've realized you belong to me. All that time I let you believe you were the master of all this, ,it was all lies. You fell for my promises of beauty and perfection without a thought for the price I would require in the end. You are hollow, I've carved out everything that use to make you a person, and replaced it with the compulsion to destroy yourself. It wasn't my fingers down your throat, my stomach begging for nourishment, and it wasn't my blood rushing out of your arms. I gave you everything you could possibly want, and now you cry like you didn't know this was going to happen, you didn't think I would take your breath too. No one can help you now, and if you try to reach out I am going to pull you back down. I've given you everything you wanted, how dare you not be grateful?
"Who am I and why do I do this"? That is a simple enough question...My names are anorexia and bulimia, and to put it simply...YOU LET ME!
Wednesday, January 1, 2014
Mirror, Mirror
She is back in the same spot she finds herself every night, facing her own judge, jury, and eventual executioner. Her eyes slowly move upward and in a quiet voice she whispers, "Mirror, Mirror on the wall who is the most perfect of them all"?
There the girl stands waiting for her answer, she is starved, broken, and her arms drip the only tears she is allowed to cry. Everyday she waits for the mirror to tell her she is finally perfect because once she is perfect the punishment will finally stop, but the mirror only shows her more pain, more weakness, and more imperfections. Flashes of her loved ones begin haunting her reflection telling her what she isn't....she isn't "pretty enough", a good enough daughter, a good enough student, wife, mother, friend, and the list keeps going. She see the faces of all the people she lets down on a daily basis, and each face she feels another crack in her. The girl wonders how long it takes for you to cracked enough to shatter.
She has spent years trying to silence her pain, trying to be normal, and everyday she finds herself alone, in front of that mirror...awaiting her verdict. She tells herself to keep smiling, keep hiding the hurt, people don't want to deal with her problems..."solider up"! She can't cry, she can't fall apart, or scream...no one would understand. This is her pain and she has learned how to control it...the girl decide what hurts her and how bad, at least that is what the mirror says.
As her heart rate rises the pain hits her like bricks, and the girl can't breathe. As she falls to her knees her hands grab the razor sitting beside her...she has to make it stop, it has to get out, or she will never breathe again. As her flesh begins to weep she tries to take a breath, but the bricks are still there...it isn't working. The panic sets in and her crimson tears turn into a river. Her heart still races as she thinks, "this can't be happening". There is no release, no numbness...she feels everything. Her mirror has betrayed her, and as her eyes glace upward she sees herself, she can see her life running out of her. The girl in the mirror is dying, it always told her it would come with a price, but she hadn't cared. All the girl ever wanted was to be perfect, to be worth enough, and to make all that hurt go away. All this time as the numbers on the scale went down, as she watched those red tear drops on her pale flesh, or swallowed a handful of pills she thought she was purifying herself from her pain, becoming perfect. Now the truth is staring her in the eyes, all this time she thought the mirror was giving her the perfection she desperately sought, but it was all a lie. With each pound, each cut, and each pill a little bit more of her chipped away, and she was about to have the last piece of her pulled out leaving her a shell that once held a soul.
The girl is now laying in front of the mirror feeling herself slip away, not sure she can even manage a weak cry for help. But, wait there is no help, this battle is between her and the reflection that mirror has shown her for years. No one can save her, no one can see what she does, the monster ripping her life away. As she closes her eyes in surrender something happens, for only a second she sees images of herself smiling, truly laughing, she is a wife, a mother, a loved daughter, and though her pain is still there she sees for the first time happiness and acceptance. The images don't last, they begin to fade.
The girl struggles to her knees to face the mirror once again, and it immediately tries to crush her back down. "You are nothing, you could never be perfect...you deserve this". With the last piece of strength she has the girl screams, "NO"! at the top of her lungs as her fist crashes into the mirror. In an instant, the mirror that had tortured her for so long became nothing but shattered glass powerless to hurt her anymore. As she pulled herself to her feet and dusted the glass off herself, though she was bloodied and broken, for the first time she was free. A number would not define her day, a razor would not define her night, no more would she cry those crimson tears alone in the dark, and no more monsters would ever hallow her out again.
There would still be bad moments, she may stumble, maybe even fall, she would be scarred, but she would survive. She would never again let anyone tear her down for her scars, the places where she has been broken and pieced back together...the girl has been in battle, the toughest battle of them all...the battle of her life. She said, "NO"! to the lies and faced her pain head on to win her life back. She is more than all the hurt, more than all the judgments people have thrown at her, and has been shown that she can be loved. She is stronger than she ever thought she could be even in the moments when those old lies make their way back in she just stops, shuts her eyes, and screams, "NO"!
What will it take for you to break the mirror?
There the girl stands waiting for her answer, she is starved, broken, and her arms drip the only tears she is allowed to cry. Everyday she waits for the mirror to tell her she is finally perfect because once she is perfect the punishment will finally stop, but the mirror only shows her more pain, more weakness, and more imperfections. Flashes of her loved ones begin haunting her reflection telling her what she isn't....she isn't "pretty enough", a good enough daughter, a good enough student, wife, mother, friend, and the list keeps going. She see the faces of all the people she lets down on a daily basis, and each face she feels another crack in her. The girl wonders how long it takes for you to cracked enough to shatter.
She has spent years trying to silence her pain, trying to be normal, and everyday she finds herself alone, in front of that mirror...awaiting her verdict. She tells herself to keep smiling, keep hiding the hurt, people don't want to deal with her problems..."solider up"! She can't cry, she can't fall apart, or scream...no one would understand. This is her pain and she has learned how to control it...the girl decide what hurts her and how bad, at least that is what the mirror says.
As her heart rate rises the pain hits her like bricks, and the girl can't breathe. As she falls to her knees her hands grab the razor sitting beside her...she has to make it stop, it has to get out, or she will never breathe again. As her flesh begins to weep she tries to take a breath, but the bricks are still there...it isn't working. The panic sets in and her crimson tears turn into a river. Her heart still races as she thinks, "this can't be happening". There is no release, no numbness...she feels everything. Her mirror has betrayed her, and as her eyes glace upward she sees herself, she can see her life running out of her. The girl in the mirror is dying, it always told her it would come with a price, but she hadn't cared. All the girl ever wanted was to be perfect, to be worth enough, and to make all that hurt go away. All this time as the numbers on the scale went down, as she watched those red tear drops on her pale flesh, or swallowed a handful of pills she thought she was purifying herself from her pain, becoming perfect. Now the truth is staring her in the eyes, all this time she thought the mirror was giving her the perfection she desperately sought, but it was all a lie. With each pound, each cut, and each pill a little bit more of her chipped away, and she was about to have the last piece of her pulled out leaving her a shell that once held a soul.
The girl is now laying in front of the mirror feeling herself slip away, not sure she can even manage a weak cry for help. But, wait there is no help, this battle is between her and the reflection that mirror has shown her for years. No one can save her, no one can see what she does, the monster ripping her life away. As she closes her eyes in surrender something happens, for only a second she sees images of herself smiling, truly laughing, she is a wife, a mother, a loved daughter, and though her pain is still there she sees for the first time happiness and acceptance. The images don't last, they begin to fade.
The girl struggles to her knees to face the mirror once again, and it immediately tries to crush her back down. "You are nothing, you could never be perfect...you deserve this". With the last piece of strength she has the girl screams, "NO"! at the top of her lungs as her fist crashes into the mirror. In an instant, the mirror that had tortured her for so long became nothing but shattered glass powerless to hurt her anymore. As she pulled herself to her feet and dusted the glass off herself, though she was bloodied and broken, for the first time she was free. A number would not define her day, a razor would not define her night, no more would she cry those crimson tears alone in the dark, and no more monsters would ever hallow her out again.
There would still be bad moments, she may stumble, maybe even fall, she would be scarred, but she would survive. She would never again let anyone tear her down for her scars, the places where she has been broken and pieced back together...the girl has been in battle, the toughest battle of them all...the battle of her life. She said, "NO"! to the lies and faced her pain head on to win her life back. She is more than all the hurt, more than all the judgments people have thrown at her, and has been shown that she can be loved. She is stronger than she ever thought she could be even in the moments when those old lies make their way back in she just stops, shuts her eyes, and screams, "NO"!
What will it take for you to break the mirror?
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