Damn proud
With scars up and down my arms and a damaged soul, it is no secret I have struggled with depression. I can’t take a shower without looking at myself and hating my body for the purple hills that are my scars. I can’t wear short sleeves in the summer without wondering what everyone is thinking as they pass me by. Every day it is a struggle for me just to get out of bed and bring myself to class, to work, to clubs, even to see my friends. I cannot talk to new people without the immense fear that they already hate me. It holds me back. But now, I tell my depression, my anxiety, my immense traumatization from childhood abuse, NO. No, I will not let them stop me. I will not let them make me hate myself, but instead I will thank them. Thank them for shaping me into the beautiful human I am now. Thank them for making me realize, yes, I am damaged, and that is okay. I am no longer afraid to live my day. I am no longer ashamed of the wounds I faced in my lifelong battle with myself. I am no longer in fear of what I will do to myself, or whether I will make it passed my 20’s. Because they are no longer who I am. I can gladly stand up and say I am not my illness. I will not let my depression be who I am. I will not let my anxiety hold me back. And I am definitely not letting my abuser win this battle any longer. 5 years later, I am allowing myself to be who I am, and I am damn proud of that person
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