Pictures from My Past
And the Eating disorder voice that loves to hear itself talk…
My body tenses when a picture from the past appears. I try to look away quickly most of the time because it scares me that I will miss those days if I look long enough.
It’s scary even to think that I could miss that life.
But what if I do miss it?
How human of me to miss the past sometimes.
I can’t help but think about how easy it was to step in front of a camera. My confidence told me it was okay to strike a pose. The feedback on those pictures always felt positive and encouraged that voice to stay loud.
I guess you could say I miss that confidence. But I feel guilty if my curiosity runs. I fear that curiosity and desire for confidence will invite that past to my present.
It's all an illusion, though. I know that now.
The voice convinces you that you will be happy if you finally look a certain way; once you reach that goal, once your jean size is a number that sounds “acceptable.”
I have been down that road; that voice is never satisfied. It keeps asking for more and more. And more is never enough. You never really maintain or possess that true happiness or peace you are searching for. If anything, you get to that jean size and realize, “Shit, I’m still not happy.”
I hate how vulnerable I feel when I see old pictures, though. The voice likes to use it as an opportunity to tell me what I am now is less than what I was then.
However, I can honestly say that when those old pictures have appeared before looking away, I don't just see a more petite body; I now see a sick and trapped girl wanting to get out.
I know she was afraid that if she asked for help and gave herself a chance to be free, it wouldn’t be all she had hoped and dreamed. She thought that she had to stay the same, that her body wasn’t allowed to change. She was scared that she would hate it if she allowed herself to be and let change happen as it was meant to. So she accepted that this was all she got, life in this cage she was barely surviving in.
That voice still makes me feel caged sometimes. I am afraid even to take a picture nowadays. I'm scared I'm not going to like what I see. I’m so scared of what that voice will say. My confidence is pretty low, and my insecurities, well, they are pretty high. I hate to admit that. I hate that I care what I look like in pictures. I hate that society has taught me what beauty is, and I can’t get it out of my mind.
I often wonder if I will ever make peace with those photos and my past. I wonder if I will ever have a day where that voice doesn’t talk in my ear. I wonder if I will ever feel the confidence to stand in front of a camera again.
I wonder if I will forgive myself for pushing my body to a sick and tired place. I wonder if I will ever completely forgive myself for believing that voice when it convinced me that being smaller was better.
I wonder a lot.
I also have a lot of hope.
I have hope that all those things I wonder about will come true. I have hope that I will find peace with those photos and my past. I have hope I will wake up one day, and that voice won’t be so loud; it may even be a faint whisper I pay no mind to.
I have hope that my confidence will slowly light up, from a tiny spark to a blazing flame. But this time, not confident based on others' approval or based on an unrealistic way to live, but confident in who I am at my core.
I have hope that forgiveness is in me…I think I have already begun to forgive what happened. I know that shit happens in life, and then we learn from it…and then we grow, evolve, and see things differently.
I think we're all humans trying our best, so giving ourselves some grace along the way is necessary. I guess I'm giving myself some grace when those photos appear, and that voice starts to talk because it loves to hear itself talk. I’m allowing fear, curiosity, sadness, gratitude, and hope to come forward.
So yeah, I’m not trying to push away my truth anymore. I'm not trying to lie to myself and others anymore. And I’m giving myself permission to be fully human.
