“You aren’t good enough and you never will be,” She whispers softly in my ear, and Her words bounce around in my head as I pull my belt a little tighter, trying to ignore the pain that it causes as it digs into my skin a bit more. “You think that’s going to make a difference? Please, everyone will notice,” She huffs, and I feel my cheeks warm as I decide to forgo the sundress I was planning on wearing on my first day joining a new club. Instead I opt for a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of athletic shorts, both of which seem to placate Her into silence, as now I’m mostly hidden under layers of fabric. Glancing nervously at my alarm clock, I realize it’s almost time for me to leave, so I grab my backpack and head downstairs for breakfast, but at the sight of the hearty eggs, bacon, and pancakes my mom had sitting out, She piped in with a quiet “don’t even think about it,” and I, despite being hungry from skipping dinner last night, tell my mom I’m too nervous to eat and rush past her concerned face to my car. I’m nervous and shaking as I drive to school for the club my mom made me join, the whole time trying to ignore Her loud reminders of everything that could possibly go wrong. It’s hard enough to deal with my own worries, and the additional comments She keeps making aren’t helping my nerves. “Everyone’s going to notice how much you eat. They’re all going to see you’re not really anything important,” Her words are light as a butterfly, yet at the same time each one feels as heavy as a brick, and they’re all slowly building up a wall of inferiority in my mind. “Worthless,” She whispers. “Waste of time and space,” Her voice drones on the entire drive to school, and by the time I actually park and walk inside, I already want to go home and sleep so I can have a break from Her pessimism.
The halls are mostly quiet, as it’s a Saturday, but as I walk towards the counselling office, I begin to hear voices, and my heart squeezes uncomfortably with anxiety. “They can’t help you. Nobody can,” Her words cut through me like the blade that created the barcode on my wrist, and I stand outside the counsellor’s office for a few minutes, trying to decide whether She’s right; whether I really am a hopeless case. “You’ll never get rid of me. I’ll always be here, no matter what you do,” She boasted, and I knew She spoke the truth. She’d seduced me months ago with Her words of being perfect, and like an idiot, I’d listened to Her. Now I stood just outside what could possibly change my life, yet Her words, which had put me in this position in the first place, were all that were holding me back from that change. “I’m the only one who wants to see you get better. I want to see you be perfect. Behind that door, they don’t want that. They don’t want you to be perfect,” She warned, and part of me believed Her. Part of me had always believed Her. Part of me listened to Her every whim, and Her fantasies became my fantasies. I was about to turn and flee, knowing that I could never beat something that I had so willing made myself susceptible to in the first place, when the door opened, and Ms. Brown, the counselor stepped out, greeting me with a warm smile.
“Glad to see that you could make it, Catherine,” I nodded, and reluctantly dragged myself into the room, the whole time trying to ignore Her screaming that I needed to leave. “Everyone, this is Catherine. I expect you all to make her feel welcome here, alright?” There were various affirmations around the room, but I found myself maintaining eye contact with the ground, embarrassed at admitting that I needed to be here. When I finally did look up, I saw a girl with pale blond hair covering her eyes, whose bones seemed to protrude from everywhere. I saw another girl, who looked to healthy to be here, but when she began talking about her week, I could hear a familiar pain in her voice. I saw a boy from the football team who everyone thought was perfect, but now, seeing him here, I realized he had his own issues. The four of us, at a quick glance, seemed to have nothing in common, but as everyone began to share their various battles, I realized that we were more alike than I’d originally thought.
“You’re not going to get anything out of this,” She reminded me, and I dropped my gaze, hoping to conceal my embarrassment. “I’m the only one making sure you’re perfect. Do you really want to undo that?” Part of me was screaming that yes, I desperately wanted things to go back to the way they were before She had come into my life, and that was the only thing keeping me in my seat as I waited for my turn to talk.
“Catherine? Would you like to share something with us today?” I jerked my head in a slow nod, trying to keep my heart from beating out of my chest.
“I- I’m Catherine,” I started, voice wobbling a bit from nerves. “I have, uh, anorexia and I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want to beat Her. She’s everywhere. She always reminds me I’m not good enough and tells me that the only way to be perfect is to listen to Her. And I know- I know she’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop Her. I want to stop Her,” The room was quiet for a moment after the last of my words fell from my mouth, and the silence was only broken when Ms. Brown spoke up.
“Thank you for sharing that with us today, Catherine. Wanting to beat anorexia, or “her,” as you put it, isn’t impossible. Right now, every day might be a battle, but you’ve made it this far. You came here today, and that shows that you’re one step closer to winning this battle than you were yesterday. Everyone here today is facing something, and everyone can beat it. The only question is how hard are you going to fight?”