Becoming Content With Myself

Content Warning: eating disorders, self-harm.

I’ve always been extremely critical of myself throughout my life. There would be times where I would just stare in the mirror and maliciously find every “flaw” littered around my body and mull over for hours on how to fix them. Not a single blemish, scar, or stretch mark was safe from my eagle eye of judgement, and I even viewed that as a positive trait. Not even my personality or social interactions were safe. Every slip up and possibly annoying trait echoed in my mind incessantly, and I had to make constant notes on how to improve myself and better behave in the future.

It wasn’t until I developed an eating disorder and went to therapy that I realized what a horrible mindset I had. Becoming the “ideal” had absorbed my life to the point where I couldn’t focus on or even think about anything else. There would be times where I would get so fed up with my body I’d sharpen and dig my fingernails into my skin to punish myself for just being me— to punish myself for not being “the ideal.” This period of my life still affects my physical and mental health to this day, but I think I’m finally at a point in my life where I’m fully content with myself and who I am.

It started with me challenging that so-called “ideal” in my brain. Who decides what the “ideal” even is? Why should I worry so much about it? The answer is very complicated and, quite honestly, could be a topic for an entirely separate blog post. Past me would jump to the surveys and studies on the internet and say something along the lines of: “The majority of men prefer this body type and this nose shape, so clearly it’s the “ideal” and most desirable.” Even then I realized my obsession with this was because of my fear of inadequacy and not being good enough for my partner. A pit would form in my stomach whenever I was faced with the mere idea of a relationship, and visions of being a regret of my future husband or wife would haunt my every waking and dreaming thought.

The answer was so simple and what everyone had been telling me.

“If they really want to spend the rest of their life with you, then you’re already their ideal.”

“Well, what if someone leaves me for someone else? Someone more ‘ideal?'”

“Then you may not have been their ‘ideal,’ but there will be someone else out there who will love you just the way you are.”

It took a lot, and I mean a lot, of work to get to that point. Thing is, I wasn’t even close to being done. I still needed to come to make a mends with my body and eliminate every other person from my view. I needed to forgive, or rather, thank my body for being itself. I needed to let myself be me. And I did. I chose to love myself.

I feel as if MSA was a perfect environment for this newfound mindset to cultivate and grow. The students here value genuineness and and individuality more than anyone I’ve ever met, and they really do wish to support you in any way possible. I’ve never felt so accepted and like I didn’t need to chase after some “ideal” to be accepted and loved— I just needed to accept and love myself and others. 

I am my ideal, and I am proud of my progress.

I probably could have written this much better than I did, but after a crisis at 2:06 am in the early morning of the due date, there isn’t much time to revise or rewrite. It’s been something I’ve wanted to explore in my writing for a very long time now, and although I may not have executed it in the best way possible, it’s down on paper and into the world, just like I wanted it to be. Typing my final stroke as the clock reaches 3:15 am, I wish you all a good day. 🙂

Author: Lauren Stamps

Just a writer who really likes fictional robots :) View all posts by Lauren Stamps