Throughout the years, I have struggled with confidence and self love. I developed quickly as a young girl and became very insecure about my breasts and my body. My mind distorted the way I looked at myself, fixating on its flaws and feeling the constant need to live up to an expectation that didn’t exist.
Over this past year though, I’ve gained respect for my body. I had surgery to remove part of my breast and watched my hair fall out. I got stripped down to a raw state both physically and emotionally and felt vulnerable. And that’s when I finally began accepting myself for who I was. The scars on my chest…those are my battle wounds. The hair I no longer had on my head…bald IS beautiful. Those curves on my body…embrace them!
I began looking at my body as a symbol of strength. My workouts were no longer measured in success by the number looking back at me on the scale but by the energy and strength I felt afterwards. The food I began putting in my body was to nourish and fuel it, not to starve it. My body was my vessel and I was going to use it to fight this thing.
While I have finally come to a place of acceptance, there is no denying that I’m scared of what lies ahead tomorrow. To face the loss of something that has always been a part of me and to see my body change. I’ve spent these last few days looking at myself in the mirror and silently mourning the skin I was once uncomfortable in.
But then I focus on the future. To hopefully hear those words one day that I am cancer free. To live my life freely and to be unapologetically me.