So, from the outside I look better right? I wear makeup and do my hair, laugh wildly as I sashay across rooms in dresses reserved for the confident girls. Its been years since my period stopped, the depression began and my daily calorie intake was somewhere below 500. Years since I stopped wearing baggy clothes, repeatedly promising myself that if I’m “good” today then tomorrow I can wear a fitted top. Years since my biggest self accomplishment was passing on birthday cake. Years since two-a-day workouts leaving me too exhausted to even make it to the shower.
So when do I start to feel better?
The visits to the therapists are no more, the symptoms are merely haunting memories, but will the plaguing thoughts ever stop? I’ve long ago recovered physically from anorexia, so how long until I recover mentally?
My mind is far too often clouded with heavy layers of insecurity mixed with doubt and fear. I think about other girls. Not even girls, women. Strong, confident women who use their flaws as assets, who broadcast their opinions without abandon, who admit when they are wrong, but refuse to apologize for who they are. Bravery and honesty are found next to their names in the dictionary. I hate that I am not one of those women and I hate that I am not sure if I ever will be.
I have to believe that it will get better; I must convince myself that this is not how I will forever feel. I have to believe it because it’s weighing on my spirit, slowly but surely, little by little. And I can not, I will not, I refuse to be broken, not by this.
“When we long for life without difficulties, remind us that oaks grow strong in contrary winds and diamonds are made under pressure” –Peter Marshall