No one really spells my name right if they don’t know me, despite my name being in my Instagram description, on my name-tag, etc. Either missing a letter or misplacing another, I stopped feeling inclined to correct them.
My name is Millie. I talk a lot about my emotions because most of the time, I’m having conversations in my head. I’ve discussed on my Instagram that I’ve dealt with depression since I was 13. About 8 years later, I’ve publicly announced that I’m receiving professional help and I’m still continuing to grow as a person through my photography and my writing.
I am being more honest with myself and with others more than I have been in my past years. The person I see in the mirror now is not a reflection of my past, but of who I have become because of it. I’ve been a victim to multiple abusive relationships, I’ve been suicidal, I’ve been raped, I’ve lost many people in my life. These are things I know, but am still learning to understand. I have been a bitter being because of what has traumatized me, this I know. I have been trying to be more kind to myself, but I find it’s easier being genuinely nice to others. I’ve asked myself why that is.
My fate is not the fault of the world and it is not my fault alone. This I understand. It’s easier to love what has meant no harm to you, which is why I’m having trouble loving myself.
Self-cultivation isn’t always a positive thing. Coping mechanisms can be brutal on our bodies, to those around us, but they all come in different ways and forms. The waves of depression and anxiety sometimes swallows me whole; I mostly feel that during nights of restlessness, suddenly during my days, etc. But it leaves, it passes, and I continue.
There’s been so much change in my life. I hadn’t taken the time to realize that until recently.
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