Doubt…
Every morning, I woke up wondering. Was I enough.
Had I done enough. Been enough. Changed enough. Lost enough weight.
Been good. Been bad. Been right. Been wrong.
And these insecurities grew. And grew.
Most of them became attached to my weight and the pain my dysmorphia caused me.
And then… I healed.
Slowly but surely, I became humbly aware of my insecurities and the dark recesses of my personhood that emerged when I let them overwhelm me.
It’s a process. That’s what they tell me.
But more often than not… that truth isn’t comforting.
The substances. They comforted me.
But… Alas, once the high wore off, the pain was still there. Searing and intolerable.
Furthered by avoidance.
I made my way to a land and a people I did not know.
I changed everything about myself and somehow still found it to be lacking to people.
People… Their opinion of me was and sometimes is held in too high of a regard.
I step back and face these words that haunt me. Tall. White.
These insecurities overwhelm me at times. I find myself not fitting these “types” … And I lose…
But… now. I rest in the reality that my worth was never once in question.
Never once in doubt…
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