“When you find yourself drowning in self-hate, you have to remind yourself that you weren’t born feeling this way. That at some point in your journey, some person or experience sent you the message that there was something wrong with who you are, and you internalized those messages and took them on as your truth. But that hate isn’t yours to carry, and those judgments aren’t about you. And in the same way that you learned to think badly of yourself, you can learn to think new, self-loving and accepting thoughts. You can learn to challenge those beliefs, take away their power, and reclaim your own. It won’t be easy, and it won’t happen over night. But it is possible. And it starts when you decide that there has to be more to life than this pain you feel. It starts when you decide that you deserve to discover it.”— Daniell Koepke
It is the dawn of a new year and I am not immune to the optimistic notion that the year holds infinite possibilities. But none of these compare to the inferred clarity born from retrospection. Putting another
year behind me helps me see some things clearer. I am compelled to leave the darkness and be one with the light. I couldn’t wait for the New Year to be a new person. I woke up one morning in December and I couldn’t be this person that the world had chosen for me. As such, I have developed a strong aversion
to secrecy. The popular misconception that we all adhere to is this: “to reveal one’s self is to become weak.” Must we live in fear? Must we be condemned to a life of fearing ourselves? Secrecy inadvertently gives birth to mistruth. I have spent years choking on declarations of love. My throat is hoarse with regret and my tongue has forgotten the taste of truth. I have a duty to infuse truth within the words I write to create the revolution that our society needs. The truth I offer you is this, whenever we reveal a modicum of truth, it is drowned in ignorance and hate. When I find comfort within this vessel that is my body, I am labeled vain. When my bra strap peeks out of my vest or my thick thighs pour out of my shorts, they say I am inviting sexual advances. Declarations of love are seen as efforts to emotionally blackmail. Kissing strangers that make me comfortable makes me a whore to them. Wearing make up must mean I am insecure with my appearance. Cries for help are seen as a cry for superficial attention. We fail to see the truth because we are searching for the worst in people.
I loved a man who taught me to love the truth through his inability to love me. His was a lesson that opened my eyes to the realisation that people cannot be the idea we have of them. To expect that is to defile the truth. Seek to understand my truth before you define me as your version of truth.