I lost everything at 23

It’s February 14th. I don’t really care about the day, to be honest, but I do like that there’s a day for people to show love to one another.

I’ve realised that love is genuinely a universal language, and you have to be really oblivious not to see it. That was me for the longest time. Oblivious.

I was so determined to believe I was unlovable. Not because I enjoyed it, but because I was taught that way.

I get told daily by my parents that I don’t belong in their family and that I am basically a disgrace to them. Why? Because over the past year I have realised that everything they pushed me to do pushed me further away from myself. I know they thought it was for my good, but I was in constant pain. I never felt enough. Never felt right. I was not aligned. I was not alive.

I think that is when I stopped loving myself. I fell out of love with that girl. She used to be so free.

It is hard when you are constantly having to go against the grain.

I studied to be a pilot. And before anything else, I did it. I became one. It was my dream at first, but on the very first day I knew it was something that would never fulfil me. I cried, shouted, did everything, begged to get out of it.

I was not allowed.

I struggled so much that I created an autoimmune disease for myself. My body was under constant stress, and I was doing something I had started to hate.

This year, my body demanded change.

I could not function. Literally. My body was dying from the inside. My immune system shut down. I developed all sorts of chronic illnesses. It was the hardest year of my life.

I had no support through it, which made it worse. And I isolated myself too, because if my own family would not help, how could anyone else?

I know there is love. Because I see how, every time life gets so bad, I try again. Or at least I want to. Even if I cannot always do it, I still have the want to love myself.

I could not even shower properly this year, if I am being honest. I could not look at myself in the mirror. I could not wash myself. I hurt myself by binge eating, because it is something you can hide easily.

I posted so many pictures to show I was doing well. I arranged so many things with people to prove how happy I was, trying to convince myself more than anyone else.

Weirdly, I am not even a little disappointed in myself.

Because I found what I want to do.

I want to write. I want to share my story, my struggles, and how, even if it is small, my life is getting better. I can feel it.

I have started taking care of myself again. Feeding myself properly. Losing some of the weight I was carrying.

I have aligned myself with the path I want.

So let us see. I do not know how anything is going to be.

But I know what I want now.

And I guess that is the start.