I have always thought I was imperfect. Not good enough at anything or for anyone. I don’t think people knew how insecure I felt in my skin when I was younger but after the attacks it just reinforced my feelings about myself. At the time I couldn’t understand why these attacks had to happen to me. I will never get an answer to that question. It is one of life’s unanswered question which I have come to accept.
About a year and half after the attacks I completely stopped eating and drinking. I couldn’t cope with the flashbacks in my head and felt I was disgusting and unclean. At first it was not to lose weight but to disappear: but as I lost weight I did disappear. My mind slowed down, my body became weaker. My blood sugar kept dropping, extremely low. I didn’t know what day or even year I was in. Time just went by. It was a lonely and isolating world living in my head. Lost in a system of care that didn’t understand.
But throughout the years, I have started to embrace my imperfections, because sometimes you can keep changing yourself for everyone else. I have lost friends to my illness and that is because I thought they never really knew what was going on for me. Just left school. Disappeared. We need to talk more openly about mental health because many people don’t understand it. I have struggled to talk to friends about it. It seems to be a taboo subject; a “no-go” area.
In my view we are all imperfect. If we were all the same; all perfect then what would make us different, unique. It seems people like “safe”. They don’t like the unknown. Nor do I but most people would treat somebody with a physical condition differently than someone with a mental health condition. I am not a monster. The monsters are the individuals that hurt me. I never asked to be hurt. But instead of people embracing, helping and accepting me I am looked down upon. They don’t see me: they just see the conditions. Not everyone is like this and I know a lot of people who have read my blog and have surprised me by their response, and treated me like nothing has ever happened.
I have scars on my body, stretch marks on my legs for my weight going up and down, due to medication and not eating. I take daily medication but I am me, with all my imperfections. Some days I feel lost and isolated in a mind where I believe there is no hope….but there is hope. Sometimes we just have to believe, hope and work every day to be a better person and accept that we are all different. That is what makes this world so beautiful, alive and full of colour.