Sincerely, the Inner Voice

[Major TW: Disorder eating, starving, and body dysmorphia. Exercise extreme caution if you have ever experienced an eating disorder. The last thing I would ever want to do is cause someone to relapse. Read at your own risk. Remember, you are all worthy of love, no matter how you look on the outside. We are not defined by the standards of a corrupt society. <3]

“So, what’s the catch?” I stood, staring at myself in the mirror, hating my own reflection with every fiber of my being. A fat, depressed, ugly girl stared back at me. I hated her, and would've done anything to get rid of her. 

There is no catch. Just living free. Skinny, happy, gorgeous. Large and in charge baby. Or small and in charge, even better. The deep, gravelly, eerily comforting voice answered me from somewhere within my own mind. 

“So that’s it? I don’t eat, or I eat very little, and I work out as much as my body can take and I’ll love myself again?” My arms were shaking as I held on to the porcelain sink. 

Exactly. How hard can it be? Just let me take the reins for a while. Succumb to me, the new voice, the better voice. Leave your old self behind and learn how to be happy hopeful worthy pretty. 

It seemed dangerous. It seemed wrong. It seemed scary. But I was so desperate, I would try anything.

If only I had any idea how desperate I would become. 

It started out small. I would skip breakfast, and start going for runs after work. When I’d reach for a snack, the inner voice would claw its way out from the depths of my mind and screech a warning against it. I’d drop the snack and go about my day. Two meals turned into one, one run turned into three. 

My body started to change, but not like the voice said it would. Sure, I knew I was getting thinner, but I felt bigger than ever. My limbs were like tree logs and my stomach as big as a cast iron pot. The mirror was my enemy, so I avoided it. I avoided friends and family, too. No one should have to see how disgusting I am, I would rationalize. My body started growing this weird, fuzzy peach hair. I was cold, so cold, all the damn time. My stomach ached and groaned constantly. 

As always, the voice was there to encourage me, growling from deep inside. Hunger fuels you. Hunger is your friend. Keep going. 

It’s addictive, starving. It feels good because you feel like you can control it. But monsters like addictions cannot be controlled. I was a slave to my own mind. Everytime I went to bed shivering with my stomach in agonizing pain, I felt good. But no matter what I did, I never stopped feeling fat, ugly, and undesirable. I wanted that to change. So, I kept going. I pushed myself harder, testing every limit I could.

Slowly the runs turned into jogs, and then I could only run for very short spurts at a time with the help of a treadmill. I was eating smaller amounts every day, the thought of two meals sickened me. I was getting so weak, but I felt unstoppable. Being unstoppable can lead to greatness, but it can also lead to catastrophe. 

My catastrophe was coming. 

I had called in sick to work for the third day in a row. I didn’t have it in me to move. After all, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. I was lying on my coach on a Thursday afternoon, succumbing to the weight of my bones. I was studying the walls of my tiny apartment living room. I briefly glanced at my calendar, knowing I had to have some kind of plans that day but deciding I was too frail to drive. I kept telling myself that the hunger fueled me. That I was strong. But I was so hungry. So, so hungry. I kept staring into my kitchen, and by then I couldn’t stop myself. 

I opened my pantry. I found all my favorite foods, mini blueberry muffins, cheez-itz, pretzels, popcorn, and began shoving it all down my throat. Food after food, bite after bite, it was all so good, so filling, so delicious. It was, at least, until I was done eating. When it was all over, I felt horrible. 

I couldn’t believe myself. I was a disgusting, fat, worthless, rat without an ounce of self control. 

You know what you need to do now. The voice called to me from the darkest pits of hell. 

It was right. I did. So I shoved my fingers down my throat and threw up all the delicious, terrible food and flushed it down the toilet without so much as a second thought. 

Feeling awful, I fell into bed and passed out. 

I woke up the next morning to my phone continuously buzzing. I mustered the strength to check it. I had 42 missed calls from my sister, and fifteen texts from my brother. I had missed my mom’s surprise 50th birthday party that we had all planned together because I was too busy throwing up. 

Since I was finally awake, I trudged from my bed to my bathroom, gripping onto the edge of the sink for dear life, and stared at the girl in the glass. She looked... different. I hadn’t noticed how sick she was becoming, and how visible it was on her face. I hadn’t eaten anything that day. Not a single thing.

I thought to myself, good. I don't deserve to eat after what happened yesterday. I was instantly hit with the full magnitude of that thought and was shocked that I had gotten used to thinking that way. It was then the realization hit me. I had missed mom’s birthday, my own mother’s birthday, because I wasn’t strong enough to drive to her house. It was then that I knew. This needed to stop. This needed to end. I needed to forgive myself. I needed to heal. Unfortunately, the voice could hear my thoughts, and it wanted to stop me.

Don’t talk like that! You’re doing so well, darling. You’re so strong, so brave, you are winning the fight. 

I shook my head. It’s wrong, so wrong. “No. Starving myself has only made me weak. I am losing, losing a much greater fight. I know that now.”

Don’t turn your back on me! I have done everything for you. I am the reason you’re losing weight. And if it weren’t for me, you would be content living with fat all over your body. I am here to save you. To give you that hunger that you desperately need. 

“I don't need you! I don't need hunger to fuel me! All you’ve ever done is hurt me and I won’t tolerate it anymore. This is over. I’m ending this charade for good.”

The voice didn’t like that. The voice didn't believe me. You’ll never change!

“I can learn to love the person I am.”

You don’t know who you are. 

“You are me! I am you! We are the same. Except I am stronger, I can break free.”

You will never be enough. 

I gazed in the mirror, and the hate started to seep into my brain. I shook it away. “I am enough.”

You’ll always be fat. You’ll always be ugly. You are revolting, you sicken me. 

“No! No. You’re wrong. You’ve always been wrong, and you’ll always be wrong. I am me. I can be me again. I can help myself. I can try again.”

No one is coming to save you!

“I can save myself!” I screamed and slammed my fists into the mirror, shattering it. 

With that, the voice was silenced. I looked down at my hands, my knuckles bleeding from the punch. Despite having just broken my mirror, I felt relieved. I felt powerful. I was stronger than I had been in months. 

What to do now? I can’t fight off the voice forever. I want to get better, but where do I even start?

Why don’t you grab a small bite to eat, love? Just one? We have some dried mangos in the kitchen. A soft, kind, honeydew voice whispered in my ear from a different place in my mind.