Being Me

For a great part of my life, I wanted to be somebody else. Truth is. I didn’t like myself too much. I wished I was someone prettier, smarter, thinner, funnier – just somebody else, someone better than me.

My high school times were the worst of my life. I felt like a big, fat, ugly bug all the time, that didn’t fit anywhere. During those times, I remember with a heartache how I used to write harmful notes to myself to remind me how fat and unworthy I was. Then I faced some eating disorder issues. I was just a mess. I felt something was eating me inside out, but I wasn’t able to see what it was. I just felt terrible with my existence, and I wondered why I was here.

Now I am almost 30 years old, and I’ve learned a lot along the way, I discovered self-compassion, and it is not self pity; self pity is a powerless feeling that makes you feel guilty, ashamed and unworthy. Self-compassion is quite the opposite. It empowers you with self-love and self-acceptance and makes you realize how worthy you are of being alive.

It doesn’t mean that I now have my act together. Truth is, there’s no act; there’s just life and life is to be lived, to experience all the joy, the pain, the sorrow, the love, the freedom, the shame, the fear, the peace, and everything that makes us human.

I live a perfectly imperfect life and I am a perfectly imperfect human being. I am at peace with that.

I love being me. I love being alive.