Hopeless Scars with Hopeful Stories.

By Ally B.

Ever since I can remember I have always hated myself. Truly. I don’t do this for attention; I don’t do it for sympathy; I don’t do it for understanding. I say this to be truthful that there was a period of time I draped a sheet over my mirrors because I could not dare to look at myself. I hated what I looked like, how I acted, how I felt, how I was living.

There was this horrible incident in which I truly felt unworthy on behalf of someone else. I was 16. My mental health took a hit from this one. I’ve always sensed a small voice in my head telling me I’m not capable of anything but wasn’t until this moment that the voice grew louder. It took over my entire body and I didn’t recognize myself for years.

For seven years I felt no passions and had zero motivation to do anything. Nothing brought me joy. I felt nothing.

I skipped school, bailed on friends, spiraled out of control, gained a lot of weight, and even quit dance after 14 years because I couldn’t bare to look at my reflection anymore. There is not much else I remember besides feeling horrible for so long. It’s like my brain has made me forget all the sadness and worthlessness I felt. I just remember feeling numb.

I had become a shell of myself: moving through the motions, sleeping way too much, hurting myself in ways I never thought I would, and losing any sign of light at the end of the tunnel.

And then I woke up. I took back my life. I found a reason to live and a way to cope with my mind. I found my body’s capability to exercise. To feel strong. To enhance my endorphins. To ease my mind. To save me. It became an addiction in the best way addiction can happen. I am prone to addiction so I know how horribly wrong addiction may seem. But this was a healthy one. I promise.

You might not believe me, but I’m not going to tell you therapy fixed me because it didn’t. I’m not going to tell you medicine fixed me because it didn’t. I’m not going to tell you someone fixed me because they didn’t. I did all of those things and still felt broken.

I fixed myself. I saved myself. I did this.

I found writers like Rh Sin and Rm Drake who I felt were writing directly to me at times. Their books shed light on my life. They gave me words when I couldn’t speak. They exposed me and opened my eyes. They allowed me to finally heal.

I found my self worth and it is unshakable now. It’s my reason for living. It changed my life. It changed my mindset. I found happiness. I found light.

I fell in love with myself.

It was all I ever needed.

All I needed was me and I always had everything I needed.

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