Thursday, 28 August 2014

"We Know What We Are, But Know Not What We May Be" - William Shakespeare

It's very difficult for me to look back on pictures of my younger-self without crying. There is something about my quest for perfection that makes the current-me exceptionally sad, because my younger-self is pretty much the perfect version of me that I was looking for, regarding looks. The heartbreaking thing is, I have never felt good enough, pretty enough, skinny enough or worthy. Of anything. Especially love. So even when I looked in the mirror and didn't immediately hate myself, I found something to hate because I couldn't face a world where I was enough. Like many women, my self-worth was directly linked to my image. 

I look at them and cry because I still don't feel worthy, not all the time. I still have that little voice that says, "If you just looked like her again, your life would be better". Would it? Doubtful, but nonetheless it is there trying to convince me of things that I know aren't logically true. I cry because it is incredibly frustrating that I feel like I have wasted my life waiting to be worthy of that life. If I just looked a little better, if my eyelashes were longer or my thighs were thinner then I could start really living. So many years wasted. There were so many clothes I didn't buy or so many I hoarded that didn't fit, all motivation to lose weight I would never actually lose. 

"I can buy that dress when I'm skinny" or "I'll keep this for when I lose weight, because I'll need clothes!"

What if, when I am talking myself in to or out of something, I replace the word 'skinny' with the word 'purple'? Sure, I can become purple, like I can become thin but if I don't dedicate my life to it, how likely is it that it's going to happen? I am denying myself happiness because I am waiting to be something I won't necessarily be. 

"I can buy that dress when I'm purple" or "I'll keep this for when I become purple, because I'll need clothes!" 

Doesn't it seem unrealistic?

I'm not entirely happy with how I look, my weight or my face but I am happier than I have ever been about myself. If I can learn to love all the parts of myself that I have been taught to hate, maybe I will stop lusting after the perfect version of myself.

I choose not to deny myself clothes because 'fat girls can't wear that'.
I choose to find things I like in the mirror rather than punishing myself for the things I dislike.

You don't just wake up one morning and love yourself. It is a choice and it is a fucking hard one. You have to work on it every single day. But, when you look in the mirror and that furrowed brow turns in to a genuine smirk, you know you've won today's battle.