On a message board I frequent, someone asked what the monster inside our head looked like. Is it human? Does it even have a body?
The question jogged my memory.
In high school, for art therapy, I drew a picture of a shadowy ghost (instead of white like Casper, it was black like the blackness inside a cave, where no sunlight ever reaches) with fangs and glowing red eyes.
Today, it looks like me. It looks like my perfect image of myself, beckoning me, lying that if I can reach perfection, I’ll be good enough. I’ll deserve to live and be happy.
Until recently, I thought everyone had an internal dialogue. Apparently, that is not the case. If you have a voice in your head (ED or not, maybe it is simply a critical voice or an anxious, fearful voice), what would it look like?