You took away so much of that year of my life, but you didn’t win. Along with you came anxiety and depression, which seemed impossible to escape. I lost time with the people I loved the most. I was constantly hiding with you.

I don’t want to be a part of that anymore. I never wanted you to define me. I didn’t want anyone to see me and first see you. That is not who I am, and I never plan for you to take that part of me again.

I know who I am. I am not defined by the gap between my thighs or the number on a scale. I am not defined by a compliment or an insult. I am not the lies and deceit you attack me with daily. I am worth more than I feel when I am in your grasp.

I am a child loved greatly and fully by her Father. I need love and care–from others, yes—but also from myself. So instead of dwelling on you, instead of lashing out against my body because of you, I will do the complete opposite. When I feel uncomfortable and unloved, I will remind myself of who I am. I will create art and realize I am just like it—a messy beginning, often filled with tears upon the canvas of my being, but an eventual picture of work and grace and value. I will spend time intentionally loving others and even loving myself, though that comes a little less simply.

I will no longer worship you; you are not an idol in my life anymore. I never even meant to let you in, let alone allow you to steal so much. You fought to fill every piece of me, and now I am fighting to rid every single one of the traces of you.

The things you taught me, though, I will keep. I know there was something profound that came from the pain. I know there were lessons in the lonely, and a kind of stillness in the silence.
Overcoming this was a part of becoming who I needed to become.

The lies that came from your voice are drowned out by the overwhelming, all-consuming, beautiful truth of who my Father says I am.

I will not hurt my body. I will strive to treat myself kindly and to remind others to do the same. I know there is still fragility inside me as significant as when I was a child; fragility that reminds me to care deeper. And yet, there is strength ever growing inside. I know my Savior’s strength is carrying me from grace to grace, and I will continue to seek it out.

I need Him to conquer this. I need to give you up for good.

So, I let go. I will not miss you. I will not give in. Take your lies and worries with you, okay?

Sincerely,

The girl who was given the chance to live again.