The awkward things we try to bury…

How I’d love to tell her (little me), that nothing about her was wrong… Besides the scrunchie with those tights, of course. 

Time to expose some of that awkward stuff that sometimes can shape a future. Get ready: sadly, a common story.

Ever since I was young, I always felt a need to be thinner. Out of my large family, I wan’t one that looked fly. Home was the scariest place for me. I loved school- it was my safe haven. At home I was called names and told multiple times that I was stupid, fat, and ugly. Hear something long enough, one day you find yourself believing it. One sister was overweight, another had the ideal athletic bod. I wasn’t either. Not quite overweight, but a little extra fluff I did carry. Time to get personal: I was especially insecure about my bottom. I thought that when I walk into a room, everyone is thinking- My, how huge! Obviously, I had body dysmorphia. Now… I know EVERYONE grows up with certain “difficulties.” In my case, my own mind ended up being my biggest battle. I was a victim. Today, I am not. Perhaps it was my sensitivity (which on the other hand gives me powerful and sharp discernment) that led to my heart feeling so hurt back then. Perhaps it was the trauma I endured (that I won’t mention here). I remember a summer after 6th grade when a cousin of mine laughed & called me fat. I went to write in my journal the following: “Today I was called fat. I WILL lose weight! I WILL go on a diet, etc.” 

If I could go back in time, I would choose to rise above that crap if it were possible. Mom never told me that I was good, just as I was. Instead in my awkward teen years she’d hug me and passively make a remark like, “Ohp, here are my little rolls (as she would take my sides).” I’m not bashing my mother, nor do I hold resentment towards anyone at all.  I am not broken by my memories, instead I choose to grow. I am simply acknowledging such things with you dear reader, because if we don’t revisit the lies we have once believed, we cannot move forward. 

Radical acceptance– that is my aim. What has once broken me, is now building me up. It’s been 5 months now (feels like forever), since I began recovery from my eating disorder. I had a meltdown today because my body no longer meets my formerly high expectations. So… I’m learning to be kind. I think it’s so much easier to be kind to others than to yourself many times. You and I, together, let’s choose to be kind to ourselves as to others. Peace out.

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