It feels like ages since I have written! For the last two weeks I was on vacation from work and got the opportunity to explore the beautiful city I live in anxiety free for the first time since moving here. It was a truly remarkable and special time that I took to ponder on what I want out of life and how I can further improve as a person.
Realizing that the reason for my unhappiness was something as “simple” as anxiety makes me question my strength. I have endured extreme physical pain most of my life and I consider myself a master at managing it. Despite my family history, personal experience of mental illness and firm belief in eliminating the stigma surrounding it, I have yet to forgive myself for the years my illness has taken from me. I even have trouble calling it an “illness” in reference to myself.
My entire life I tried to work toward a better version of myself, and not in a productive way. “When I’m 20 I will have better hair and leaner legs,” I would tell myself as a teen. Neither of these happened, my hair is what it is and my legs will never have a thigh gap. Daily I remind myself that it is okay. Each day is a struggle and each day is different. But lately there have been more good days than bad days, and I am counting my blessings.
I have a job as a nanny and I love it more than words can express. Children don’t care about the size of your thighs or the way you fold your arms when you're uncomfortable. They don’t care how much you talk, as long as you know when to listen. All they want is to be loved and to show love. When I sit with them at the park, they will gently place their tiny hands on my legs as we play in the sandbox together. This small, seemingly insignificant gesture speaks volumes. I need to be gentle to myself.
The harsh words we say to ourselves, we would never utter out loud to a child. Before you think about your flaws, just remember that you are doing okay and you are not alone. Be gentle and love your entire soul, even the messy bits.
Realizing that the reason for my unhappiness was something as “simple” as anxiety makes me question my strength. I have endured extreme physical pain most of my life and I consider myself a master at managing it. Despite my family history, personal experience of mental illness and firm belief in eliminating the stigma surrounding it, I have yet to forgive myself for the years my illness has taken from me. I even have trouble calling it an “illness” in reference to myself.
My entire life I tried to work toward a better version of myself, and not in a productive way. “When I’m 20 I will have better hair and leaner legs,” I would tell myself as a teen. Neither of these happened, my hair is what it is and my legs will never have a thigh gap. Daily I remind myself that it is okay. Each day is a struggle and each day is different. But lately there have been more good days than bad days, and I am counting my blessings.
I have a job as a nanny and I love it more than words can express. Children don’t care about the size of your thighs or the way you fold your arms when you're uncomfortable. They don’t care how much you talk, as long as you know when to listen. All they want is to be loved and to show love. When I sit with them at the park, they will gently place their tiny hands on my legs as we play in the sandbox together. This small, seemingly insignificant gesture speaks volumes. I need to be gentle to myself.
The harsh words we say to ourselves, we would never utter out loud to a child. Before you think about your flaws, just remember that you are doing okay and you are not alone. Be gentle and love your entire soul, even the messy bits.