The Parting of The Ways

I realise I haven’t been posting much since I started this blog. On my last blog, I posted at least two times a week, sometimes more than that. I had to delete it, both because of some of the content I had written (way to go, S, triggering yourself!) and because of some of the comments that had been left there. I had started that blog to get the horrible things in my head out there somewhere, where I thought they could harm me less. I began to feel connected to other people, in a way I hadn’t before. I fell into this crowd of people, all like me. The biggest thing? We all were struggling with eating disorders. Now, one can probably see where this is heading…we thought we were supporting each other, but really we were just covering up our own messes by trying to fix each others. One of our group attempted suicide (twice). Another was forcibly relocated to a major capital city by ‘well meaning “friends” ‘ in the group. And then, as is inevitable in groups filled with illness and dishonesty, a breakdown in communication occurred, and myself and another girl were cut off.

Why is she writing this, I hear you ask? Because sometimes it’s time to let go. It’s time to let go of this group that helped keep me sicker for longer. It’s time to let go of feeling left out (when often, I don’t give any reason to include me). It’s time to let go of the bullying and the abuse and the things that keep me down and feeling horrible. It’s time to let go of the idea that my life is magically going to work itself out. And it’s time, yes it’s time, to stop spilling my innermost thoughts on the internet all the time.


Perception Shift

Year 10

Isn’t it crazy, how in the above picture, I thought I was fat? I don’t remember it being taken exactly – I do know that it was the ImpaKCt camp before year 10, and we had “Vinnies Day At The Races” as one of our dress up themes. I remember feeling ugly, and gross, and like no one would ever want to be friends me or look at me and definitely not touch me (this was before even this happened).

I look at this photo now, and see three beautiful young women. I look happy. I look confident. I look beautiful. And I wish I could go back and tell the younger me to remember that she is all these things and more. I wonder how differently my life would have turned out if I’d realised that I wasn’t as much ‘on the fringe’ as I thought I was. I wonder what might have been, if I’d only realised how much I had to offer.

I wonder if I’ll look back at photos of myself 5 or 10 years from now and notice the same perception shift. I kind of hope I do, because I’d love to realise that I was ‘successful’ even when I thought I wasn’t.