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H u r t i n g ~ One Thing I Wish I Told 16-year-old Me

One Thing I Wish I Told 16-year-old Me (And now I'm travelling back in time to tell you)

If you're still not sure what my story is about, let me tell you – it's not a weight loss story, it's not a 'I now appreciate who I am as a person, I was beautiful all along' tale, or the 'I wasted my time with horrible guys and now I'm happy to be single' story either.

Because the people that wrote those stories ended up gaining back the weight, they returned to the self-deprecating act of calling themselves ugly, and the 'I'm over dating assholes' women returned to dating the assholes, but with a fresh wardrobe and a new hairstyle copied from People magazine.

I'm not at the start of my journey nor am I close to the end;

I'm living it as it's happening; trying to heal in the midst of it all, which is why I can see the smaller, more important things that we tend to forget when we retell our story years from now;

I may only remember the happiest times or the worst and will forget what happened in between.

This book is my contingency, so I won't forget the small things that mattered.

Many micro factors play into why a woman is the woman she is today. To the underwear she wears, to the books she reads, to neighbourhood she's raised in, to the style of music she listens to.

One self-love story doesn't encompass her whole story; you can't understand the Universe if you only study the Earth.  

It's difficult to find a book that mentions the micro levels of being a teenager,

the stuff we don't see as a big deal until we've matured a bit;

they're the small things that build up inside of us and we don't realize they're the source of our faults until it's too late and we're spiralling and thinking about throwing ourselves out of a moving car.

I call those special moments mental breakdowns. Healthy people without problems call them spiritual awakenings. I mean, the only spiritual thing about it is me repeating 'holy fuck' after I've cried my eyes out and wondered what's wrong with me. Then - yeah, I guess we can call it a spiritual awakening.

These spiritual awakenings happen when there have been things piling on my plate, and since we're taught to be gritty and tolerable, I tell myself I'm fine and that this is normal:

'Suck it up, princess. Life gets rough sometimes'.

The contributors to these spiritual awakenings are the small things we don't hear often enough in casual conversation, which is why we think we're the only ones going through certain problems. 

Like how to deal with dad when he doesn't like you wearing makeup, or how you keep your hair down all the time because it hides more of your acne,

Or the fears of virginity and troubles of sex.

Teenagers don't openly talk about that or how they feel (Chicken Noodle Soup for the Soul is just a bit out of date, don't you think?).

That's why this isn't a success story;

This is a true story – one where I am broken; I feel less of a woman due to unfortunate events, and now I write to heal myself and find my voice again.

I don't want sympathy or to be called brave for sharing my story.

This is my way of reaching out to you,

my younger self,

my future children,

and other lost young girls,