Page 252 of Tell Me I'm Enough

And again

And again.

I scrape my tongue.

Rinse with mouthwash.

Again.

Again.

Try to get dressed.

Take another drink.

Back to the bathroom.

Brush teeth.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Scrape my tongue.

Rinse with mouthwash.

Again

Again.

Put my shoes on.

Stare at the almost empty bottle.

Finish it off.

Repeat.

I feel like I’m going crazy, like my brain won’t settle until I’ve done every step. Each time making me hate myself more and more.

Reality slipping farther and farther away from my grasp.

It’s not even about wanting it anymore. It’s just about needing the edge shaved down. Just enough to take the panic off. Just enough to stand in front of my father today without shaking.

I go to sit down on my bed, elbows resting on my knees as I breathe through my nose—in…and out.

You’re fine.

You’ve brushed your teeth twelve times.

You’ve used almost the whole second bottle of mouthwash you had in the cabinet.

You’ve showered already.

You’ve changed into clean clothes.