Incessant Insecurities

I remember understanding insecurity about my body from the ripe old age of 8. Looking down at my thighs as they spread across the seats in class and obsessively comparing myself to the thinner girls surrounding me. I always wanted to change and had conditioned my head from then on that I would someday be the image of perfection I had always dreamt of. My conquest began in 6th grade, taking karate classes to begin shedding the pounds. My self-esteem soared as my peers noticed my cuter figure showing through. This pursuit continued into high school. After switching schools, my desires of perfectionism, a determination of mine to mask all of my weaknesses and insecurities, spiraled out of control parlaying me into the deep abyss of my eating disorder. I became an addicted to my new religion of weight control…my only control. Naively, I was always the one controlled, but never was able to admit it. An innate people pleaser and do-gooder, all that I ever did was to seek validation from others, the type I wouldn’t allow myself to have. I have always chosen identities I thought I was and pursuits I believed were valiant and projects that would qualify me as a worthwhile human being. Bouts of anorexia and bulimia nervosa, followed by morphed eating habits and rigid exercise habits followed. All the while, these practices and rituals were due to my incessant insecurities, insurmountable standards I’d set for myself, fears of failure and self hate for those times I couldn’t perform. Inside, never adequate and up to par with what my peers were doing. Everything I tried including sports, activities, projects, volunteering, though most I have enjoyed, have partially been to seek acceptance, and be a part of something valuable. This fact is verified by my consistency to second-guess my decisions. Rebelling and running, I have never been satisfied with ay endeavor and quit before I start because of fear of failure, mixed with the need for more. At 23, I am coming to realize that I have hated and beaten my own body and mind, because I never believed I was good enough, smart enough, and brave enough. At this age, I have come to understand that I have a lot of growing up to do still, but that I am good enough, smart enough and it is not too late to turn my thinking onto a healthier path. It will take time it is a rebirth. While I will not win the Nobel Prize or go to Harvard anytime soon, its ok, I have my whole life to enjoy, heal and decide what’s really right for me.