Monsters Inside Me

Some people are born with heart conditions, learning disabilities, or missing body parts. I was born with monsters. As I grew older, they grew stronger. For the past 24 years, or as long as I can remember, I have been in a constant battle with myself.

One monster tells me that I'm not worthy of real love.  Another monster tells me the world is filled with pain and evil that will never fade, no matter how many guardian angels are sent to it in the form of lovers and best friends. There's even one that does nothing but whisper the horrible words I've heard validate the first two monsters. "You are nothing." "You'd be better off dead." "It's all your fault." 

The strongest monster simply smiles sweetly and says, "They're right." When I'm clinging to a thread of sanity, when I can physically feel the monsters strangling the life out of me, she cuts it. She cuts my last thread of hope without breaking that sweet smile of hers.

I couldn't exactly go around broadcasting this type of thing. Or at least I didn't think I should if I wanted to keep up the facade that I was normal, that my proudest moment wasn't that one time I told the monsters to shut the fuck up for long enough so I could finish a slice of pizza without hyperventilating.

That was how I dealt with the monsters without having to confess to anyone I was crazy. I needed to take their strength away. I needed to get the power back under my control. I needed to starve them. When they were weak, they were quiet. That smile the strong one used to give me became more of a tired sigh of defeat.

Knowing that I could subdue something so powerful made me feel strong. Not only that, I overcame basic human needs. I didn't need food anymore. I felt as thought I could win a lifetime of battles with sheer self control. I felt free. I felt powerful. I felt light.

Eventually, I was given a choice: eat or die. The doctors didn't like my answer, and they didn't care that they were feeding the monsters too. There was no way for me to explain that eating just meant that I would die on  the monster's terms. Either way I was going to die because of them. A more accurate choice: let the monsters I've been fighting for so many years win or go down fighting.

It has now been 5 years since I was forced to start eating again. I'm still here. The monsters haven't won yet, and for the first time in my life, I am not convinced that they will kill me. With the help of medication, therapy, and surrounding myself with people who love me, the monsters are finally quiet. And I am stronger.