There’s been a trend on TikTok lately: “What is the sentence that broke you?” It has struck so many things within me; all those words brought forth and remembered. Words are just words, but the hooks in their underbellies – who can bypass those and/or the things they connect to? Moments caught like fish on their ends. It’s in reflecting that we end up looking back and remembering the moments. The looks. The words. But not just the words we hear, the words we speak to ourselves.
I read once that telling the story of how you overcome something could be a part of someone else's survival guide. One of the most motivating factors that catapulted me towards my path of coaching is my disordered eating history. As many girls have, I was influenced early in life with the mindset that my weight was a compromisable variable of my worth and the circumference of my waist was directly proportionate to my value as a person. I was thirteen the first time I ever placed my capacity to be loved as being measured by the same scale I would soon obsessively weigh myself on multiple times a day. So, I stopped eating on the principles of being more profound by my lack of space take-up. I was thirteen. 13.
The glorification of my weight loss confirmed my disordered eating for over nearly two-thirds of my life. It is a behavior I am still unlearning every day. I am 39 and I am still working to feel at home in my body. It has taken me almost three decades to allow myself to take up space. To hear words like strong or beautiful and let them be meant for me. To allow them to belong to me. I am finally at a place where I meet myself with so much love and grace. I have so much gratitude for everything this vessel has shown she is capable of: big resilient energy.
And, there are still days where my soul only busies itself with the act of counting scars. The worn out questions I have tread because I thought that was all the curve my spine would fit into anymore, I try to now mend with elastic. This healing journey has been ongoing for years and I still have a lot of years left to go, but sometimes to lend a hand to another whose heart is breaking is to learn a little about how to heal your own when the time calls for it. So, I share my story with you. I cast my beacon of light out, throw my pebble into the water, and hope that if you are struggling, you will feel a little less alone.
Today, I am going through old boxes of faded, yellowing papers – old notes and song lyrics, pictures in which I hardly even recognize myself anymore. It is only evidence of the skin I shed some time ago. And, the truth is, I really cannot relate to that person anymore. I am not ashamed for any of my life mistakes now. It is all a part of the journey. Of life. I see a beautiful thing when I reflect. I think we all have had moments like this, when despite the fact that time really does not give a shit about any of us, we somehow manage to slow it down just a bit, line it up, look around us and really see it. And, allow ourselves to be taken by it. Sometimes you have no choice, but to let go. Sometimes, the beauty really is too much.
So, confidently know this, it is a beautiful thing to have bodies that allow us to be our best, healthy selves and there is no prescribed definition as to what that should look like. It’s tragic that we fail to realize the power in our anatomy and the resilience of our hearts, because our focus is on picking apart our appearance. But I welcome you to join me in a new way of thinking: perceiving beauty in our physical and emotional strength versus aesthetics. Let’s rewrite the narrative we are telling ourselves because the truth is, we are the sum of our thoughts and actions. Let’s tell ourselves all the things we need to hear. All the things we have been waiting to hear. Let’s stop handing ourselves fists full of stems and finally pry open the boxes that contains all the blooming parts. We have outgrown these old versions of ourselves. Let us mourn or celebrate accordingly. You are the path you tread. You are the meaning you seek. So, bloom. Blossom. Break open. Be brave, be hopeful. It’s time to find you, and lose questions.