i believe you

Having an eating disorder can feel like having a bounty of mental illnesses: anxiety, ocd, depression, schizophrenia, imposter syndrome. It’s horrible. And, logically, you know you don’t want to go through that. You don’t want to suffer. You don’t want to go through life feeling incessantly inadequate. You just want to feel good enough. Loved enough. Kind enough. Happy enough. But let me tell you something, you are enough. You’re enough to those that love you. Enough to the world that gave you life. You’re enough to the rain and the sun and the moon and the stars. You may be scared. You may be overwhelmed. You may be down. You may want to give up. But it’s ok. It’s going to be ok. It’s difficult but I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m listening. Don’t cry. I’m here. You’ll feel like a fraud, unworthy, but, listen, you don’t have to fit a definition, the definition has to fit you; your situation is wholly unchanged by someone else’s or someone else’s perception of you. You shall believe that you could be iller, but you don’t want to be iller. You don’t. You don’t want to be ill.

It’s ok. I’ve got you.

I believe you.

I shall stand in front of those people claiming you can be more. I shall fight them to the ground. Because there’s nothing more to be. How can we be more when being more is killing us?

We could live up to a million expectations yet there’d still be a million and one that we’re missing. There’d still be better. But better isn’t us. Expectations and definitions aren’t us. Laughter in the middle of the night when your friend’s told a joke that’s really not that funny but you’re tired so it’s hilarious - that’s us. Curling up in your mums arms when the world feels too much - that’s us. Crying at sad movies and dancing in the rain - that’s us.

Sure, it sounds cringey but I don’t really care when those words offer me a lifeline. I hope they offer you one too.