stronger.
this post is a little hard not only to write but also to read. please handle with care.
stronger. i am becoming stronger. i dont mean physically stronger. i mean mentally and emotionally.
this is my story. these are my words. and they are not to be taken lightly.
i have a tattoo on my wrist that says "stay strong". it is above my scars. those scars are almost invisible. almost. they are barely noticeable now but they still ache from time to time. the scars on my wrist were not caused by accident. they were caused by me. my mind. my dysfunctional mind. they were caused by stress. they were caused by hurt. they were caused by me. do i hate them? some days. would i change them? never. they remind me where i have been and where i am now. these are not my only scars. i have the ones that are almost impossible to see. they have helped shape me to where i am today but i sometimes wish i had never had to deal with them. i have heard all the stories about suicide and about how it felt to recover from an eating disorder and everything. i never knew how scary it could truly be until it happened to me. i never thought that i would be the one contacting the hotlines at 3 am because i felt alone and was scared. i never thought that i would be limiting my food and counting every calorie to make sure that i didnt become "fat". i never thought that i would lose one of my best friends to suicide. but i did. i started to give up. i didnt want to live. i didnt want to eat. i saw no point. i was giving up. i hit rock bottom. i was alone and scared. i had a ton of friends, i did well in school, i was dancing at school, eating lunch with friends only to feel alone and limit what i did. i was starving myself and hurting myself without truly realizing it. i was angry not only with myself but with the world. angry, scared and hurt, i closed myself off. i pushed everyone away. i gave up. i thought i wouldnt make it to my 16th birthday. but i did. i didnt think i would make it to graduation. but i did. i hid it from my parents about how suicidal, depressed and angry i was. and then, one day, i didnt wear long sleeves. i didnt hide my wounds. i didnt hide. and my mom noticed. she got me the help i needed and i am forever grateful. i got on medication, i went to counseling, i started to get better. i wanted to keep going. im not sure what kept me going all those years when i gave up. im not sure what changed but i am forever grateful that i am still here. i have been through hell and back. i beat an eating disorder. i didnt have to contact hotlines anymore. i wanted to keep going. i am now in my 2nd year of college and i am truly blessed. if i had hid my wounds and hid myself even more i truly dont think i wouldve made it this far. this is the first time that i have truly put my story out there. no more hiding. no more suffering in silence. no more. i am worth it, i am here. i am forever proud of myself for making it this far in life. i am strong enough.
stronger. i am becoming stronger. i dont mean physically stronger. i mean mentally and emotionally.
this is my story. these are my words. and they are not to be taken lightly.
i have a tattoo on my wrist that says "stay strong". it is above my scars. those scars are almost invisible. almost. they are barely noticeable now but they still ache from time to time. the scars on my wrist were not caused by accident. they were caused by me. my mind. my dysfunctional mind. they were caused by stress. they were caused by hurt. they were caused by me. do i hate them? some days. would i change them? never. they remind me where i have been and where i am now. these are not my only scars. i have the ones that are almost impossible to see. they have helped shape me to where i am today but i sometimes wish i had never had to deal with them. i have heard all the stories about suicide and about how it felt to recover from an eating disorder and everything. i never knew how scary it could truly be until it happened to me. i never thought that i would be the one contacting the hotlines at 3 am because i felt alone and was scared. i never thought that i would be limiting my food and counting every calorie to make sure that i didnt become "fat". i never thought that i would lose one of my best friends to suicide. but i did. i started to give up. i didnt want to live. i didnt want to eat. i saw no point. i was giving up. i hit rock bottom. i was alone and scared. i had a ton of friends, i did well in school, i was dancing at school, eating lunch with friends only to feel alone and limit what i did. i was starving myself and hurting myself without truly realizing it. i was angry not only with myself but with the world. angry, scared and hurt, i closed myself off. i pushed everyone away. i gave up. i thought i wouldnt make it to my 16th birthday. but i did. i didnt think i would make it to graduation. but i did. i hid it from my parents about how suicidal, depressed and angry i was. and then, one day, i didnt wear long sleeves. i didnt hide my wounds. i didnt hide. and my mom noticed. she got me the help i needed and i am forever grateful. i got on medication, i went to counseling, i started to get better. i wanted to keep going. im not sure what kept me going all those years when i gave up. im not sure what changed but i am forever grateful that i am still here. i have been through hell and back. i beat an eating disorder. i didnt have to contact hotlines anymore. i wanted to keep going. i am now in my 2nd year of college and i am truly blessed. if i had hid my wounds and hid myself even more i truly dont think i wouldve made it this far. this is the first time that i have truly put my story out there. no more hiding. no more suffering in silence. no more. i am worth it, i am here. i am forever proud of myself for making it this far in life. i am strong enough.
i. am. stronger.
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