At age 13 I started to starve myself
I believed no one could love me because of my sexuality and identity. I believed that no one could love a person who doesn't experience sexual attraction, and has a brain that doesn't align with their body's sex. I believed that, perhaps if I looked dainty and fit the mold of what was considered beautiful by others, I could be wanted and desired. This destructive belief paved the way for many more destructive behaviours and thoughts.
I became a hollow shell of
whom I used to be
I would spend everyday caught in a hazy blur. From waking up, going to class, talking; all of it felt fake, practiced, predictable, empty, numb. Nothing seemed to be capable of bringing joy to me. I felt as if, no matter what I did, nothing was ever enough for me. I was never thin enough. I was never intelligent enough. I was never pretty enough. I was never a good enough person. I was never socially dextrous enough. I was never enough for myself or others.
However, overtime I came to see that I was destroying myself. When I saw myself from a different perspective, I came to realize that the belief I was clinging to would be the end of me if I didn't do something about it.
I had to be both the doctor and the patient
I managed to silently pull myself out of that situation, and tear apart that belief of being unlovable for things out of my control. I've come a long way from where I started, but the journey to recovery isn't over just yet.
July 28th, 2019
YOU ARE READING
In My Head
Non-FictionJust a place where I let the thoughts, ideas, tragedies, events and possibilities that thrive within me and the experiences I've lived be voiced and bear a place where others may understand them. •lower-case "i" intended •Cover made by me *Warning:...
