@Saartjesteenhoudt

I’m scared that I’ll never be able to love myself. I’ve been in therapy for more than three years and I’m still not capable oflooking at myself in the mirror without being disgusted by my own reflection. It’s not that I’m not happy though. On the contrary, I find myself being truly content for the first time in a very long time. I found someone who loves me more than I’ll ever love myself and I’ve got a best friend like no other. Thinking about them makes me smile like crazy. At certain times, this state of happiness even gives me confidence. I’ll notice how I suddenly walk with my head high and shoulders straight. Unfortunately, the truth (or rather what I believe to be the truth) always catches up with me. The so-called truth being that I find my body repulsive.

In some sort of weird way, hating my body has become a habit. By this I mean that I can’t really imagine my life any other way. Isn’t that sad? Because believe me, constantly wanting to burst out in tears because you want to get rid of your body is tiring and depressing. No matter how happy you are that day. There are a few (okay, a lot) of habits (read coercive routines) I cannot give up, merely because they make me hate my body. Every morning, I check my stomach. First, I feel it whilst waking up, still laying down in bed. This is followed by stepping in front of the mirror and lifting my shirt, visually checking my body, especially my stomach area. This step is usually repeated throughout the whole day. Whether I'm at home or not, if I find myself alone in a room with a mirror, I'm going to check. Without a doubt. Lastly, it's weighing time. With confidence I can say that I've never felt happy or accomplished after these routines, because I'm always repulsed by what I feel or see. And yes, repulsed is the correct word. I hate, even detest the body that I'm in. It's too much, there's too much of me and I want it gone. I hate the scars on my arms (but at the same time kind of want to punish myself even more), I find my stomach simply revolting. I won't even start about my legs. The only thing I can think about when I see myself is how badly I want to lose weight.

So, I hate my body. But you know what’s great? Having people around me who convince me otherwise. I’ve already mentioned my boyfriend and best friend. They are like superheroes to me (seriously, if you read this, never underestimate the positive power you have over me). The moment they say something nice to me or give me confidence, it’s stored in my mind. I use those memories on my bad days, these messages keep me going when I’m actually not able to do so on my own. And yes, of course, I’m the one doing the actual work: eating, not restricting, not binging, not compensating or throwing up. But they’re the ones who help me deal with it. My mind is constantly spinning, evil thoughts try to make it inside my head 24/7.  I cannot cope with these thoughts on my own. I ramble and ramble about how I feel, one irrational thought after the other. They never judge, never. Time after time, my best friend convinces me that everything’ll be okay. To this day, I still find it weird. Admiring, to be honest, I mean my super rational boyfriend doesn’t judge my irrational anxiety thoughts… How wonderful can someone be? So yes, I hate my body. But even though the thought of never being able to look in the mirror with confidence frightens me, I know I’ll get there. I know that eventually I’ll look at myself through the eyes of people who love me. I know that eventually I’ll see what they see and not be disappointed. I know I’ll get there. And then I’ll not only be happy, but also complete. I’ll be completely happy.

By Saartje Steenhoudt