1. I have been told I am too much. You tell me you will never leave, but they always leave. I’m curled in on myself again, crying on the bathroom floor - and where others had asked why or walked away - you ran me a hot bath, scooped me in your strong arms and set me in. “I’m here to help wash your demons away”.
2. I have never explained the depths of the terror that grips my heart and mind, I had never never explained the way I felt dirty for all the hands that had ever touched me. You tell me they’re the dirty ones for the things they did to me, you tell me that my mind is a beautiful maze and it’s okay that it has dark corners - you would help me navigate it, you would stand by me as I navigated it myself.
3. My whole life I have felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff, trapped in a box that was ever-shrinking. You tell me it’s okay, I can have bad days and I can spend them in bed crying and you will crawl in beside me and anchor me to the ground when I start to feel adrift. You tell me that if I need time alone, you will be there if I need but you will give me space.
4. Some days I gasp for air, I can’t breathe, there’s a rock on my chest. Some days I can’t get out of bed, my limbs won’t work because my mind is reminding me how meaningless I am, how pointless I am. Some days I need to be alone, the voices in my head are too loud, I need to shut off from the world and sleep my day away. Some days I’m a hurricane, raging and destroying everything in my path. You tell me it’s okay, that everyone heals differently and that happiness will shine through.
5. At 7 years old my mother put me on my first diet, I was “the fat kid” who has grown up still feeling those hurtful words ricocheting in my mind. You tell me I’m gorgeous, not only because of how I look, but because of my soul, my mind, of who I am.