A question I come across a lot: “If you could, would you change your past?”
Images flash through my mind. The cold, weak teenager refusing a bite of food because she had already eaten 300 calories and that was enough for the day. The trembling, crying girl breathing faster and faster, waiting for the razor to pierce her skin. The dizzy, numb kid wishing for nothing else than to quit wishing -- to quit breathing -- to quit living.
I know the pain all too well. I felt it for all too long. I let it hurt me all too much. It took over my life. It stole precious time away from me – time I will never get back. It sent me to sleep, hoping my dreams or even nightmares would be better than the hopeless, agonizing moments I lived out every day. It took me away, pushing friends and family further and further apart so as not to reveal what was hidden inside. It drowned me, making it harder to breathe, with each movement pulling me deeper under.
No. My answer is no.
If I could go back in time. If I could do it all again. If I had the chance… no. I wouldn’t take it.
Is that surprising? Shocking? If it was you, would you respond differently? It’s just something you don’t do, huh? You don’t deprive your body, draw on your skin, delve into darkness and then wish things weren’t different. But I do.
I look in the mirror today with pride, for too many times I did it with shame. I touch my skin with love, for too many times I did it with hate. I wake up in the morning with hope, for too many times I did it with despair. I wouldn’t be half the person I am today without my past -- without my struggles.
I hold onto the ones I love a little tighter. I breathe in a little slower. I smile a little bigger. I am a whole lot better. Why? Because if I close my eyes, I can take myself back. Back to when my entire being was at war with itself, my body screaming for food, but my mind shouting back “No!” Back to when I was left aching for something to fill me up -- something to make me whole again. Back to when my smile was never really a smile as it took everything in me to hold back the tears piling up in my eyes. Back to when I found myself alone in a therapist’s office, wanting nothing but to curl up in a ball and disappear. Back to when I found out my friends and family were talking behind my back, afraid that if they didn’t keep watch on me, something bad would happen. Back to when a teacher called me into her office first hour, saying “I thought if I saw you any later, you would have already tried to kill yourself.” I can hear it. I can see it. I can feel it. All of it. It’s a part of who I am and it always will be and I’m thankful for every second of it.
I know what it’s like to be at the bottom. To be so far gone that there doesn’t seem to be any healthy way out. To feel alone. To hurt. To ache. To suffer. I know what it’s like to give up -- completely.
It was not an easy road to recovery, and some days, I fall again. But, when I stand up, I do it with intention. I do it with honor. I do it with pride. I am the way I am because I have stared death in the eyes and said, “No.” I did not give up. I did not give in. I fought. I fought hard. I am strong because I refused to feel that weak again. I am beautiful because I refused to feel that ugly again. I am alive because I refused to feel dead again. My journey is dark, disturbing, and tragic, but ask me what I see. Go ahead. I see light. I see growth. I see hope. I see a girl who overcame. Who endured. Who lived.
We are our past -- our failures, our hardships, our obstacles. We can either choose to accept that … or hide from it. But me? Well, I’ve been hiding for too long. The world is a much more beautiful place when you step out of the darkness to see it. When you stare long and hard at the girl in the mirror and she smiles back. When your fingers run over every part of your body and you feel nothing but warmth and love. When you wake up every morning and take a deep breath… of hope… of life. Today is a good day. Today is a good life. Today is a good me.
I am the person I am because of every crying night, every scary moment, and every painful scar. So, ask me if I would change my past. Ask me it a million times. You will always get the same response. With confidence and purpose, you will get the same response:
No.
