Beneath It All

93 - Beg For It ;)

C H A P T E R   N I N E T Y - T H R E E

S h a n e ༶ ｡◕

I shook my head, wrapping my arms around myself. "I'm not going to do that."

Nurse Winchester rolled her eyes and jabbed a finger at the mirror. "Do it or I'll get your dietician to make you eat Brussel sprouts everyday for the next week."

"You are one evil woman," I sighed. I looked back at the mirror, running my hands through my hair and I looked at myself. Not the distorted version that had been replaying in my head for the past year, but I genuinely looked at myself.

I looked at the boy with blond hair, the boy with a thin outline and little more than a few muscles in his arms. I looked at the dark rings circling his eyes and the red eyelids. I looked at how the skin stretched tightly over his hands, so tight that the skin was several shades lighter than what it should've been.

But you know what? I was also looking at the boy who had walked straight through hell with a smile. He may have hurt people and made mistakes but he fixed every last one of them. And that caused the corner of my mouth to uplift.

I cleared my throat.

"I love myself." I declared, staring at myself as I said it.

"Do it louder!" Someone yelled, probably on their way back from the toilet or something.

"I love myself!" I screamed loudly and proudly. A few people cheered and whooped from the corridor outside. I paused for a moment.

“Yeah, no, I still hate myself.”

She rolled her eyes. I turned to her, head tilted in genuine curiosity. “What is the point of this? It's the dumbest thing I've ever done in my life. Saying three words to my reflection won't magically make me love myself, y’know.”

“Well… Yeah, but you gotta fake it till ya make it.” Nurse Winchester sighed. She had a thick Texan accent.

“Fake it till ya make it,” I mimicked as I walked out.

“Boy, I heard that!” She yelled behind my back. I shrugged my shoulders and carried on walking. “I'm booking you an appointment with Angela. Tomorrow morning!”

Angela was my therapist, in a way. She said lots of motivational things to me  (like it would help) and devised plans and strategies with me. She was okay, I guess, but she was only there temporarily.

I was a daycare patient at a residential hospital for eating disorder patients – I had to stay there from about 8am until 6pm.
Then I was allowed to go home. For the first few weeks after I got referred, I was an inpatient and had to stay there all day and night.

But it was horrible. It made me feel like some sickly child who needed looking after. So once I started getting “better” and was forced to stop purging everyday, they released me and gave me daycare as an alternative option. Since Mother also knew now, she usually stood right outside the bathroom whenever I went in and she always made sure it wasn't right after I'd eaten something.

Honestly, it was kind of embarrassing. I felt like a child. But I knew she only meant well.

I went to go and see Angela the next day.

“Shane, hello! Take a seat!” She was super smiley, like they all are. I sat in a black velvet chair across from her. “How have you been?”

I shrugged. “Just fine.”

“Okay…” she quickly jotted something down in her notebook. Two seconds in and I already want to go home. “How's your relationship with food currently progressing?”

I shrugged again. “Fine. Everyone's been forcing me to eat so I no longer look like a sack of dried potatoes.” I patted the muscle in my thigh for emphasis.

I'd been going to the gym recently since it was fun and I have to admit, I did miss it. It gave me an excuse to get out of the house and hang out with Kyrie and Graham before we all went our separate ways to college.

“Therefore, I'm perfectly fine and recovered. Thus, this session is pointless. Goodbye.” I pulled my chair out and stood up but Angela raised an eyebrow at me.

“Aand how's your relationship with your body image coming along?” I paused. She caught me there. “Yeah… sit right back down.”

I grumbled and plopped myself back onto the chair.

“Like,” I sighed. “Like, um, the thing is. I still don't like the way I look but I do feel more confident in myself ‘cuz of the gym. I think I look better than I weigh, if that's even a thing. Ultimately though, I still feel like I don't need food. I'm better without it. I dunno.”

She nodded understandingly, scribbling some more rubbish down. Then she opened her mouth to share some of that inspirational B.S. I mentioned earlier.

“You have to make peace, with food, Shane. You have to learn, and program your brain to understand: your body needs food. At the end of the day, a food is a protein, fat, carbohydrate, or dairy, and your body knows what to do with it.”

“Okay,” I mumbled.

Angela placed her clipboard down and leaned forward on her knee. “Shane. Look at me.” I dragged my eyes up to hers. She was a few years younger than my mom, and she had these really cool heterochromatic eyes – one was green, and the other was brown, exactly the same shade as Astra's.

Everyday I called and texted her but it wasn't enough. I couldn't see her because I was stuck in this stupid place. I knew she was going to come over the day we moved out into our permanent house but it felt like too long to wait. I hated this place so much.

“Hey. I'm proud of you. Keep fighting. It takes guts to admit how you're feeling and a lot of people are too scared to seek help. Don't give up.”

Admittedly, a small smile came over my face. 

I’d spent so long hating myself and thinking I'd never be good enough – but when we die, was anyone going to remember us for how skinny and fat we were? Or were they going to remember us for our personality, our actions and gestures and the love we put out in the world.

The road to recovery is not an easy one. It is one that is off the beaten path, one only taken by those brave enough to dare.

I dare. I will fight, and I will continue to fight until the last atom in my body dies.

Perhaps I am enough.

Perhaps I always was.

***
Second last end-of-chapter's author's note!!

apparently people kind of enjoyed me ranting about my life at the end of these, so thank you. It's currently 4am (again) and I think im high on caffeine. my stomach hurts.

with the new year, please keep the palestinians in your mind as they are facing an active genocide and ethnic cleaning right now. and do not trust the government or the media.

ilysm and thank you for reading this far. there'll be another soppy final authors note which I'll probably post tmrw since my battery is abt to die so if you're one of the psychos who enjoys my authors note - look out for that lmaooo

I have cramps even though my period JUST ended bruhhh