I look at photos of me from a year ago, wasting away, going to the hopsital, being unable to walk up a flight of stairs or across the street. I look at the relationship I was in a year ago and I see the patterns and I recognize what was happening, what he was doing to me as what it really was. I see where I was dishonest, evasive, unkind, and complicit.
And then I look at my life now. I’m lucky enough to have gotten out of that cycle of abuse but tbh I’m more lucky to have received the patience, understanding, and forgiveness from my community that I have. I’m lucky to be healthy and able and to be not only capable but excited to go out to dinner and not hate myself, but to enjoy a meal with the people I love. Lucky to have recognized that I was being isolated and to see that isolation and the harmfullness of its comfortability and to actively confront it and push myself to surround myself with positive and loving influences often and deeply. Lucky to have the resources to cook well and often and to enjoy the feeling of sharing it with those I love (that includes myself). Lucky to be able to recognize that the things that make me happy don’t have to be inherently complicated. Lucky to have recognized my flaws and to not settle into the ease of ignoring them, but changing them, becoming an open and honest communicator and a better friend.
Lucky to currently be experiencing love, romatically, platonically, familialy, and so on.
Luck, and also so much hard work, to feel my best and to treat myself, my community, and everything beyond that with respect and compassion.
