Life was all going gangbusters…
I was always a bubbly, energetic force to be reckoned with. In highschool I was the girl with long blonde hair, who got straight A’s, achieved anything she set her mind to, had a supportive family/boyfriend/friends; the whole shebang. AND THEN…
Depression & Self-Harm
I was 15 when I started suffering from depression. I didn’t have the tools to process my emotions from hurt or conflict, not wanting to be a burden I just retracted into myself. At 19, intermittently until I was 26 I self-harmed; cutting my arm as a release of my internal pain. Depression turned me into feeling like a hopeless, failure consumed by sadness with no energy to care, an indescribable powerless defeat
I could not try, because I couldn’t face failing anymore. I couldn’t care, because if it mattered the pain of the failure would be too much. I was exhausted every single fucking day. I struggled with feeling humiliated at my inability to cope, that my problems weren’t bad enough to cause my life to all apart. I could still get out of bed and go to work? Everyone’s boyfriends cheat on them? Those cuts weren’t even that deep
I Hate My Body
I always thought once I was FINALLY skinny it would be OK. My weight over the years fluctuated by 20kg. I went through the cycles of starvation, binge eating, excessive over-exercising, ALL OF THE DIETS. Everything needed to be a quick-fix because I had to get away from the pain of wherever I was. Maybe if I was really really thin…someone would notice and help me right? If I was thin, boys wouldn’t leave me right? If I was thin I would have confidence, I could finally be happy right?
Self Destruction
My hurt would be fed year after year through my behaviours as a girl with no self-worth; who couldn’t stand up for herself, who looked for acceptance through being thin & perfect (but couldn’t do that either). A girl who settled for less than basic respect & desperately seeking love & validation would hold on to toxic relationships until she was in a deep spiral of hurt from which it felt impossible to escape. (EG Dating a guy whose nickname was ‘The Sword’ #canslay and being accidentally called me “Amy” while his willy was in me…)
I gave ZERO FUCKS about what happened to me. I didn’t really care about how I treated myself or anyone because my future didn’t exist to me. I couldn’t see through the pain of my past that I carried with me.
The Brain Battle
I did get myself to a place, where I recovered enough to WANT to feel better. But It felt like a fucking exhausting battle against myself. I just thought “I have depression”, it’ll just always be hard for me, I will always have to try harder than ‘normal’ people to be happy. I doubted anyway, that anyone could help fix the epic turdburger called my life. I felt the ‘old me’ trying to get out, but I didn’t know how to get her back. I was 28, it had been over 10 years.
How did Lindsey Lohan Change My Life?
One day old mate LiLo’s song “Beautiful life” comes on in my office and the irony of me the day before, lying on my bed thinking how less tiring life would be if I just died – well it HITS ME like a sourdough cob loaf to the face. HOLD THE FUCK UP. This Is NOT my beautiful life. This Is NOT who I was meant to be. THIS PAIN CANNOT BE THE REST OF MY LIFE.
READY TO GET HELP… Except, self-help coaches seem like a bunch of dick-lickers.
I was serious about the change BUT I was also ready to NOT have 10 years of therapy. I found the self-help industry to be not unlike a bag of frankfurts ie FULL OF UNRELATABLE WEENERS saying to me come jump on my rainbow positivity bandwagon of self love. CUE: VOMIT BAG.
Just be positive they said. Just love your body as it is they said.
Just see what an amazing person you are they said. *SNORTS AND LAUGHS*
My general thought responses were:
- Hey actually CHAMP, I’m over here in the depths of hopelessness and I find your advice about as helpful as a fork in the hand
- Self-help Gurus you bunch of dick-lickers, you don’t understand me. If it was that easy champions; everyone would be doing it
- Please fuck right off.
How was I going to “love myself” into the “transformation of a lifetime” when I could barely get myself out of bed. It has been so long, feeling better from positive thinking seemed about as likely as a tiny, tiny pink pony flying out of my ass.
The Right Kind of Help
(And retracting previous remarks re: aforementioned licking of dicks)
A legend of a friend recommended an NLP-based coaching program to me. It wasn’t an epic, slow battle and I didn’t have to talk for hours about past crap which I couldn’t remember. Coaching worked out what I wanted and HOW to get there. Subconsciously untangling thoughts, clearing the pain came more effortlessly than I realised. Within 6 months I was a different person. It was the single best investment EVER of my time & money.
I found freedom from the daily battle engulfed in sadness, hating & abusing my body. I found recognition for my achievements and what I could offer. I finally felt my worth didn’t lie with how I looked, so I could approach exercise and eating from a place self-care, where failure and shame don’t exist.
I found the cheeky, energetic, motivated and extraordinary woman that was inside me, the one I was always meant to grow up to be. I wasn’t just back to ‘old me’-I was a better version, empowered to drive my own life. Quite frankly, what greater gift is there than to KNOW whatever happens, YOU’RE GONNA FUCKING NAIL THIS….(It won’t always be the first time and that’s OK too)
