At the beginning of a new year, I am reminded about my strength and that I am a stronger person than I think I am. Is that actually true? I have survived one of the toughest years in my life and the rewards for that are immense. However, that is all I have done is survived. I am not strong. I just refused to die. Some may even suggest that I have blossomed this year, finding both love and having my poetry published. But I am normal, not special and certainly not strong. I am still battling the demons of depression and still cry when I feel I can no longer go on. I am getting better at looking at myself, and I see an normal person looking back, not the fat ugly beast that I once did see, but a woman, plain and normal sized but I know that as the year goes by, the belief in myself will grow. I would also like to report that it has been just over three months since I last self harmed. I doubt I will ever look at myself and think there is a beautiful, sexy and desired woman, but I will see myself as someone that deserves the love that I do get. I am about to go through the door into my new life, with a job, love, a place to call my own and something resembling a literary career. I will counter-argue that I am not strong, but I am no coward either.
January 3, 2014