Disclaimer: I am not a professional. I don’t have any letters before my name, I have no training. If you are looking for professional advice contact a doctor or councilor. If you are looking for facts, statistics and proper information about mental health I recommend websites like www.mind.org.uk. All my knowledge is from personal experiences, or those of the people closest to me.
So as I said yesterday I was away last week because I had a revelation and today I’m going to explain that a little.
Throughout primary school I didn’t have many friends, and I was very different. I was the chubby kid, who’s parents weren’t as rich as everyone else’s and who didn’t understand how to fit in because I moved around 3 times in the space of 3 years. And so unsurprisingly I wasn’t happy. I went to school with some very judgmental, stuck up people who acted just like their judgmental, stuck up parents. This meant that I was growing in a world of rumors, secret hatred and the idea that being different wasn’t ok.
Once I was old enough I left that school and went to the secondary school I am at now, and that really helped. Because here I am around a vast mix of people, who are by enlarge fairly normal – or as normal as teenagers can be -. But until last week the experiences of my primary school days hung to me. Being told I was fat, being told I was ugly and that no one would ever, ever want to be my ‘boyfriend’, being asked out for a joke, it all stayed with me. And luckily for me I went through a whole lot less than some people I know today. But it left a lasting impact on me.
So last week I stood in the mirror and looked at myself and thought ‘why do I hate myself so much, why do I have so little confidence’ and the answer my friends is surprisingly simple; I still saw myself as 10 year old Writer X. Yeah obviously I have changed a whole lot since then (puberty is a friend to many) but underneath it all I still saw a chubby, unhappy little girl. I would look at my hips and rather than see their curvy shape, I would see the stretch marks from when I gained weight rapidly. I would look at my stomach and rather than appreciate all the weight I had lost, and the emerging muscles, I would see the fat that was once there. And I would look at my face and look at my forehead and ears and hate them for their size, and then at my eyes for their lack of impressive, distinctiveness. I would talk to people and be paranoid that they secretly hated me, or that I was to boring for them. I would talk to boys and feel so weak, because I didn’t want to be my confident self, because that is ‘what guys want’.
But the second I started looking at myself as a different, on-the-way-to-adulthood person, it felt so good. Because now I see a young woman and she has a good figure, she is so beautiful when she laughs and smiles, she is so confident and has great opinions. She is the product of two flawed but perfect people who love her so much. She has the most loving, most amazing best friends who she couldn’t live without, who just like her are beautiful and smart and amazing. She has so much to be happy about, like god damn she is clever and caring and she is so special. Hell, she is not perfect by any stretch of the word. But she is herself.
I want you to look in the mirror and see yourself without the past/the baggage you carry around. And then tell me what you think of yourselves, because, honestly you are just as gorgeous and important. No matter what shit you have been through, you are worth it, you are good enough.
And folks, I think I found the last pieces of the puzzle. I think I’m here; 95% ok.
I love you all and I will chat to you tomorrow 🙂
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