Love Thyself

The scale for this part of the test was 0-5.

If you had a score of 2 or higher that meant you screened positive.

I score a 2.

Mild eating disorder. Nothing extreme like before, nothing I’m too surprised about either.

You never really stop feeling it, the innate feeling that you are not good enough. That your body is good enough.

I can look at pictures of me from before and think to myself “much too thin. Unhealthily thin.” And I think I’ve made progress.

I look in the mirror somedays and I like what I see, a slim yet fit girl at a 4’11 stature. No frail looking arms, no “abs” abnormally prominent at all times. A girl with a sweet face and a soft but toned stomach.

Other days are harder. I see a child. Hips not big enough, a face that is too full when I smile—memories of baby fat still aglow. Long arms but a short torso that feel oddly mashed together.

The hardest days are the ones when I feel the past mindset trickling in. Because those days I don’t need to eat more than a few bites of my food. As long as there are no headaches I am fine. I don’t need to eat another slice of pizza just because I’m not entirely full yet. My breasts are too big and abnormally placed on my chest, my stomach protrudes ever so slightly but enough to make my skin crawl.

I am in a world where I must be perfect. My size, my look, my entire being is scrutinized to make sure I still fit my “brand”. I am trying desperately to love myself in this world. Mentally? I may always score a 2, I may always live with a constant scratch in the record that causes me to think of old habits.

But I can also sit here and say that it’s a 2, not a 5. I doubt myself, but I know when I need help. This is a journey I must go on, sometimes I may need a guide along the way.

You can live with the thoughts of a 2, but always rely on the fact that you know how to get to 0.

That is hope I hold onto for myself. The idea that helps me know that self love is attainable for me.

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Back for a Moment

I’ve been in college for approximately 2 months and I have grown into an entirely different person.

My hair is darker for starters, which has made me feel more mature in a way. I feel like a woman, an actual young woman who will be able to do grown up things and start a new life.

I’ve become more confident and unafraid to be myself. In high school I know I put up a front and now I shed that with ease, my friends receive my authentic personality and celebrate it with me.

Theatre is hard. It’s demanding. But it is my dream. Sometimes I falter, I get scared that I’m making the wrong choice; but then I remember they chose me. I am not here by mistake, I earned my spot and I will continue to prove that everyday.

I’m done being compliant, I’ve let people walk all over me my whole life. I’ve accepted the worst treatment, and never directly addressed problems. But now I do. I want my experience at Elon to be one of positivity, I’m tired of high school shit. I surround myself with people on the same plane of existence.

I’ve made my family here, and I love each and every one of them. Now, I have to start practicing loving myself more.

And there will be update on that later 🙂

The Difficult Perplexity that caused Distress

I would like to make a disclaimer for this post to say that I do not condone compromising your happiness to stay with someone that is toxic to your health. But I will say this: you do not choose to be mentally ill, it is out of your control sometimes. Disagree if you do, that’s ok I respect that, however I am an individual who at times does succumb to the struggles I have. I feel shame for this, and you must understand that your loved ones may feel ashamed as well for not being 100% ok all the time. While I understand you can only be patient for sometime I encourage you all to try and continue to love individuals and encourage them even on their worst days. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And to the person this post is for, I am sorry for disappointing you; you may say that I didn’t. But I know I did because I disappointed myself. I love you.

If you can’t love yourself how can you love someone else?

The very notion of this phrase stares me down and laughs at me; it tells me everyday that maybe I don’t deserve love, and I find that unfair.

Because everyday I wish, I pray my brain didn’t work the way it does. That I could read as many self help books, I could exercise and feel endorphins coursing through my veins, and somehow I would feel better.

I wish I could choose to be better, I wish that when I do choose it would stick. That it wouldn’t be a struggle some mornings to get out of bed and smile at a stranger. That it wouldn’t feel exhausting to eat or give myself basic care.

It’s easy for some. It’s so easy that you feel lazy. You feel like a bother, you feel like you don’t deserve to cry—to ask for a little more help. You feel disgusting, so unworthy. Pathetic.

I want to be better. I need to feel better. I feel like I’m screaming inside my head, screeching at the sky for some deity to rewire everything and make me new.

Sometimes I truly believe everyone would be better if I wasn’t me. If I was born with a completely healthy mind; one without baseless fears and paranoia, without the need for sensitivity, no gentle care needed the minute my fragility shows through.

Someone that didn’t need anyone. Someone that didn’t pretend that they were independent because the minute she would feel herself falter she could brush it away and smile.

But I can’t be her. I fucking wish I could, I wish more than anything in this entire world I could be that for everyone.

I wish it more than life itself.

So to answer the question, I can love others.

But I want so desperately to love myself, because that’s easier said than done.