Trigger warning – mentions eating disorders, self-harm, and suicide attempts. 

Every time I looked in the mirror, the monster stared back at me. 
Reflection in a puddle? There she was again.  
She followed me everywhere.  
Even when I slept, she was there.  

That’s the thing, when the monster is you, there’s no getting away from it. 
I wasn’t a monster, of course, but I couldn’t see that. 
In my mind’s eye, I had to be. Why else would people be treating me the way they were?  

It is part of the human condition to try to rationalise events and experiences, even if the rational we create is as destructive, if not more than, the experience we are trying to rationalise. The behaviour of those around me led me to the incorrect conclusion that I was the problem. Self-hate seeped into my very soul. I couldn’t see any redeeming qualities in myself. I was repulsive through and through.  

My negative and damaging view of myself intensified as years went by and made it very difficult for anyone who contradicted that narrative. I thought they were mocking me or just didn’tknow me well enough. Once they knew me better, they’d soon see what a monster I was. I graduated to trying to push people away so they wouldn’t waste their time on me, no matter how desperately I needed them. Though I didn’t realise it at the time, I was also trying to protect myself from more pain by pushing people away. I didn’t want to get hurt again.  

This cycle of self-hate also manifested itself in an eating disorder, self-harm and suicide attempts. It wasn’t until I was in college that things started to take a turn for the better. My efforts to push those who dared to care were viewed for what they were and treated with kindness, understanding and compassion. In some ways, this was more frightening as I was not used to it. I couldn’t trust people who wanted to get to know me. I kept waiting for them to stab me in the back and prove that I, and all the others, were right about what a worthless, horrid piece of crap I was.  

I started making friends and learnt to trust a bit more. My partner, whom I met in 2000, was endlessly patient and understanding with me in those early years as I struggled to believe that I deserved his love. My friends and partner showed me the truth of what type of person I was. It took a long time and a lot of work from me, but I began to see myself as I really was and take down some of the walls I had built. ?Dismantling all the destructive coping mechanisms took much longer and, on occasions, they still try to reintroduce themselves.  

There are still times when self-hate seeps in, but I recognise it for what it is and can usually stop it from causing me harm. When I cannot, I now have the support of friends and loved ones to remind me who I am.  

WRITTEN BY LORNA SMART

BLOGGER @POEMSTELLIUM