The Core (and the painful brags)

I didn't want to eat the steak, but I overheard Mom tell Dad she thought I wasn't eating, and I had to. And the process was so forced, so deliberate- I had to force myself to chew and swallow every bite. I hate food and I hate eating!
And after dinner I stood there, sixteen pink, oblong pill capsules sitting in my hands like prokaryotic cells, filled with material enough to make me throw up, to make me miserable for twenty-four horrible hours. And I thought, "You don't have to do this, Lindsay. You don't have to overdose or take the laxatives. You can just go to sleep tonight and wake up tomorrow and forget that steak you ate."
But I couldn't.
And I thought about what my friends would think if they saw me, what Kristin F. would think, what my parents would think, what my debate coach would think. And every conscious part of me did NOT want to take those pills. They make me miserable- why would I want to take them? They poison you, just like an alcohol overdose. Lithium poisoning. I'm slowly murdering the peroxisomes in my liver cells.
I thought of all those people and I thought, "You're better than those pills, Lindsay, better than the drugs and the lies."
And I knew I was and I also knew I had to take them, just like I have to breathe oxygen. And I stuffed them in my mouth, five at a time, and swallowed them with orange juice, and my stomach started writhing just from memory even before they were all down.
And I know that sometime tonight I will kneel before the toilet and concede defeat and throw up the stupid steak, because I know I'm better than my eating disorder, but I don't know how to beat it.
And that's how all the monsters are... that's the core of me, these demons that I know I am capable of beating, I know I have the strength to beat but I don't know how.
Kayte sat across from me at coffee and she said, "Lindsay, you know you need help" and I nodded and she said, "But you're not going to get it" and I nodded. And she looked so sad. Maybe for an instant she actually did care because she hugged me then.
And these are the things I'm going to rationalize:
1. I hate myself.
2. I am ugly.
3. I am fat.
4. I am weak.
5. I am unlovable.
6. I am stupid.
And this is going to be hard for me, the hardest thing of all, but I'm going to do it.
1. Why do I hate myself? For all the other reasons on the list. Am I a hateable person? Matt says I'm the least hatable person he knows. But Ayn Rand says that only the second-hands, the scum of society, base their own opinions of themselves on what others think. So if I'm going to do this... I have to do it right. And this is hard it really is. But I shouldn't hate myself because: I am talented, I am nice to others, I have compassion, I truly want to be happy. I AM A GOOD PERSON.
2. Why do I hate what I see in the mirror? I'm not ugly. Christian called me beautiful when he went out with me. My friends tell me I look pretty some days. Not that anyone is ever going to dare to call me ugly but myself or my mom but still... I need to base this on myself, not on what they think anyway. Why am I not ugly? Because my eyebrows are well-shaped. Because my nose is not too big. Because when I lay down my ribs and my hips make this perfect convex box. Because when I stand up the muscles in my stomach are flat and visible and defined. Because I have beautiful eyes. Because I have small hands with palms shaped like circles instead of the boring, average ovals. I AM BEAUTIFUL.
3. I am not fat. I weigh 105 pounds. I am almost 5 foot 2. I am on the 25 percentile for height and the 22 percentile for weight. I am actually slightly underweight. My stomach and waist are very small- 22.5 inches. When I flex, my calves go very hard. It's all muscle, not fat. I AM NOT FAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (screw you bulimia!)
4. I am not weak. I was sexually abused for four years and physically abused for twelve and have been emotionally abused since I was old enough to understand my mother's words. I survived. I built a world for myself, I split my personality, I became dissociative, antisocial, and rude, but I survived. That alone makes me not weak. The fact that I survived. The fact that I want to be happy. Some people would've gone crazy with the abuse that I put up with. I survived. I AM NOT WEAK!!!!!!!!!!
5. I am not unlovable. Lots of people love me. The only reason I don't accept their love is because I have not yet learned to love myself. But I will. And then I will be able to have healthy relationships and love won't feel like giving my soul away to something dirty. Love won't feel superficial and surreal and only worth a heartache. Because people do love me. I AM NOT UNLOVABLE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
6. I am not stupid. I am in calculus and I am a sophomore. I am in honors all my classes. I have straight A's. Unless something massive goes wrong, I will be a valadictorian. I got second place out of over 800 entries in the novel division of the national scholastic writing awards. I am an amazing author. I am very smart. I am smart emotionally too. I see things deeper and clearer than my friends do. I AM NOT STUPID!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I AM A GOOD PERSON!!!!!!!!!!! I AM BEAUTIFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM JUST RIGHT-ON WEIGHT-WISE!!!!!!!!! I AM STRONG!!!!!!!!! I AM LOVABLE!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM BRILLIANT!!!!!!!!!!
wow that was very, very hard. I feel selfish now. But what I'm trying to learn is that confidence and humility are not mutually exclusive. I can believe these things and still be humble.
Now I just have to keep telling myself these things every day until I believe them.
Tonight, I will sit in front of my toilet and throw up and bulimia will win one more battle. But maybe next time I won't. Maybe next time I'll be strong enough.
Gosh, I hope so.