TW: Rape,self harm, suicide
Hello self, you know what I caught you doing? You were dreamily looking at your boyfriend and wondering why in the world he would be with you.
And while that’s sweet and romantic, you are not giving yourself enough credit at all. Seriously. Why does he have to be the savior to rescue you from this self imposed ‘only’ and ‘just’ that you soften yourself with?
Just in case you forgot, this is why you’re amazing:
You grew up without your mom. You were the subject of a nasty custody tug of war that left you without a mom and your father working nights; so you were subjected to the well intended but poorly executed care of your grandmother. The same woman who would enroll you in cheerleading and read you stories would also paddle you and tell you you couldn’t be a ballerina because you were too fat. When your dad remarried, your well meaning but poorly experienced stepmother would do her best to raise you in a way that is similar to a pillow being smothered over your face.
You became well rounded despite being socially awkward, obese, and generally a loner since you were the incessant target of playground bullies from primary school until you graduated. You channeled your teasing into art and writing, becoming class poet and finding solace in books and imaginary worlds. You survived your suicide attempts. You overcame the oppression of your father and chose your own path for studies, and when presented to conform or move out, you became independent.
At 18, you lived with your boyfriend, worked full time, and attended classes. You survived a car accident that should have killed you. When you broke up with your ex, he tried to rape you and you overcame the incident and have become vocal for those who have been in similar experiences.
At 20, you got married, worked 2 jobs, and went to university for time and a half, desperate to graduate on time. And you did. You paid for your own wedding, eliminated your husband’s debt, and left the comfort of your home to explore Korea and eventually find your career calling.
At 22, you fought the worst of your depression. You graduated with your bachelor’s, got accepted in your master’s and survived living alone while your husband was deployed. You overcame your self harming tendencies and got a teaching certificate from Cambridge
At 26, you decided enough was enough. You divorced your husband after being emotionally blackmailed and suffering the company of an alcoholic. You finished your Master’s Program while working 2 jobs and sharing your house with a Japanese family. You were in a band and wrote your own songs. You taught yourself ukulele. You overcame your binge eating tendencies and stopped drinking so damn much. You decided to apply for a high paying job in the middle east. You got a job offer.
At 27, you were too poor to live in NYC but you wanted to finish your teaching diploma so you stayed in a stranger’s house for three weeks, sleeping on a couch and rationing food. You passed the program, got a summer gig, and flew to 7 states to start saying goodbye before the gig overseas. You singlehandedly sorted all the shit in storage from your marriage, and condensed your life into two suitcases. You left for the desert, not looking back.
In the last year, you have paid of 20k in credit card debt, you have traveled to 15 countries, you have lost 35 pounds. You eat normally and have reignited a love for dance and exercise. You earned the top teaching diploma in the world. You are 100% independent. You have your own apartment, car, hobbies, life, passion, friends, and happiness. You have learned to cope with the pangs of anxiety and depression that haunt you still.
So, self. When you look dreamily at your boyfriend and wonder what he sees in you, it’s a whole fucking lot. You aren’t lucky. You are amazing. You are strong. You are accomplished and brave. You came from a rural town in NW Georgia, a product of a dissolved marriage, a first generation college student, and have found the world and yourself in the center of it.
You’re a catch.
So don’t forget again.