self acceptance

Don’t Let Your Mind Bully Your Body

It was in my teens that I first remember turning against my body.

I had been a thin, athletic kid, comfortable in my skin — and then things started to change. My body began doing things I didn’t understand and didn’t want. It started drawing attention I didn’t ask for. And instead of curiosity, I felt betrayal.

I felt like my body had turned on me.

I already carried discomfort inside myself — parts of who I was that I kept hidden — and when my body began changing, it only amplified that discomfort. I started comparing myself to everyone around me. Measuring myself against them. Finding myself lacking in every direction.

Nothing ever felt good enough.

And that’s when the spiral began — not in my body, but in my mind.

My mind started bullying my body.

When Control Becomes the Goal

Looking back now, I can see it clearly.

What I was really afraid of wasn’t my body — it was not being in control.

There were so many things in my life I felt powerless over, and my changing body felt like the final betrayal. So I did what I thought would give me control back.

I tried to stop it.
Manipulate it.
Shrink it.
Silence it.

That path led to an eating disorder — one I was lucky to recover from.

It took years to heal. Years to rebuild trust with food. Years to rebuild trust with my body. And even now, there are still days I have to stay conscious and accountable with my thinking.

What makes me sad looking back isn’t my body — it’s the hatred I had for myself.

There was never anything wrong with my body.

The Voice Was the Real Problem

I see now that the damage wasn’t physical — it was mental.

The voice in my head was cruel.
Relentless.
Unforgiving.

The more I hated myself, the louder it got.

I wanted to disappear into the crowd.
Blend in.
Not be noticed.
Not be questioned.

So I tried to control myself into invisibility.

That voice told me I was the problem.
That my body was the problem.
That I had to fix it to be acceptable.

But the truth is: my body was never the enemy.

My mind was.

Learning a New Relationship

Today, I appreciate my body.

Not because it looks a certain way —
but because of what it does for me.

It carries me.
It heals.
It protects.
It supports my life.

And while I still have days where old thoughts creep in — because healing isn’t linear — I no longer live in war with myself.

I no longer punish my body for existing.

I no longer try to control it out of fear.

I no longer define my worth by how it looks.

Health Without Hate

There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel healthy.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel strong.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to care for your body.

But when self care is driven by self hatred, it becomes harm.

We are not meant to all look the same.
We are not meant to fit one mold.
We are not meant to match one standard.

Different shapes.
Different sizes.
Different structures.
Different beauty.

Every body is valid.

Changing the Relationship, Not the Reflection

Healing doesn’t start in the mirror.

It starts in the mind.

In how we speak to ourselves.
In how we interpret our reflection.
In how we define worth.
In how we measure value.

Your body doesn’t need to be fixed.
It needs to be respected.

Your Body Is Not the Problem

Your body is not your failure.
Your body is not your enemy.
Your body is not your shame.

It’s your home.

And it deserves compassion — not cruelty.

Care — not control.
Respect — not punishment.
Safety — not shame.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What negative thoughts do you carry about your body?
L: Where did those beliefs come from?
A: What would change if you spoke to your body with compassion instead of criticism?
Y: How can you start practicing care instead of control today?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
What is one way you can start treating your body with more kindness today?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who struggles with body shame, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

Wanting To Be Forgotten

For a long time, I didn’t want to stand out.

I wanted to blend into the background. To disappear into the scenery. I believed that if I stayed unnoticed, no one would see what I was so certain was true about me—that I wasn’t worthy, wasn’t good enough, didn’t belong.

So I learned how to hide in plain sight.

That might sound strange given the profession I chose, but acting became the perfect disguise. I could hide behind characters. Behind scripts. Behind versions of myself that felt safer than the truth. And in that way, I wasn’t so different from anyone else. We all learn to play roles. To adapt. To become what we think is acceptable so questions aren’t asked and attention doesn’t linger too long.

When the risk of being singled out feels dangerous, we camouflage ourselves and hope we’re forgotten.

The Masks We Wear to Avoid Being Seen

Some of us don’t just blend in—we carefully construct a persona.

A version of ourselves that feels more likable. More acceptable. Less risky. We hope that if the persona is convincing enough, the real us will disappear completely.

For me, this created a quiet kind of torment.

I didn’t want to stand out, yet I desperately wanted to be liked. I wanted the version of myself I had created to be noticed and validated, while the real me stayed hidden.

It was an impossible contradiction.
A game I could never win.

The more masks I wore, the more disconnected I became. I had been playing different roles for so long that I no longer knew who I was underneath them all.

When Hiding Becomes Survival

As my mental illness took hold, the desire to disappear grew stronger.

I felt like life was moving forward without me. Like everyone else was advancing while I stayed stuck, running from a darkness that never stopped chasing me. When it caught up, it dragged me backward again.

I didn’t want anyone to see that.

So I hid.

I hid the fear.
I hid the despair.
I hid the exhaustion of pretending I was okay.

My illness told me I was forgettable. That I didn’t matter. That if I were gone, no one would even notice.

And the most dangerous part?
I believed it.

Letting the Light In Changed Everything

Everything shifted the moment I told a trusted friend the truth.

For the first time, I stopped hiding. I let the masks fall away. I let the light in.

What was revealed wasn’t polished or put together. It was broken. Lost. Empty. Afraid.

And instead of being judged or rejected, I was met with compassion.

No one hurt me.
No one shamed me.
No one turned away.

I was met with encouragement, hope, and love.

Standing there in my vulnerability was terrifying—but for the first time in my life, I was fully myself. No roles. No performance. No pretending.

And it felt like relief.

Pretending Is Exhausting and It Keeps Us Sick

Pretending takes work.

It requires constant vigilance. Constant fear of being “found out.” Constant self-monitoring to make sure the mask doesn’t slip.

And the truth is, pretending doesn’t protect us—it slowly erodes us.

It keeps us disconnected.
It keeps us anxious.
It keeps us stuck in survival mode.

For me, pretending kept me sick. And I was getting sicker.

Healing didn’t come from becoming someone else. It came from finally allowing myself to be who I was—without apology.

Learning You Are Enough As You Are

It took time to build self-love. To learn self-respect. To reach a place where I no longer felt the need to hide.

But I made it there.

Today, I know this: whatever my best self looks like in any given moment is enough. If I fall or make a mistake, I can repair, learn, and try again—as long as I stay true to myself.

I no longer want to be forgotten.

I want to be of service.
I want to help.
I want to share my story.

Not for approval. Not for validation. But because it’s my truth—and there is nothing to be ashamed of in that.

I own my story.
I own my truth.
And when I walk in that honesty, I know I am exactly where I’m meant to be.

That is what I want to be remembered for.

You Were Never Meant to Disappear

If you’ve spent your life trying to stay hidden, hear this:

You don’t deserve to be forgotten.
You don’t need to erase yourself to be accepted.
You don’t need a mask to be worthy.

The world doesn’t need a more palatable version of you.
It needs you.

Your real voice.
Your real heart.
Your real presence.

That is who we remember.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: In what ways do you hide or minimize yourself in your daily life?
L: What part of you feels “unacceptable,” and where did that belief come from?
A: What would it look like to remove one mask and show up more honestly?
Y: If you stopped trying to be forgotten, who could you allow yourself to become?

Call to Action: Join the Conversation

I’d love to hear from you.
Have you ever tried to disappear to protect yourself—and what helped you start showing up again?
Share your story in the comments. Let’s cheer each other on.

And if you know someone who’s hiding because they don’t feel worthy of being seen, send this to them.
Sometimes, all we need is a nudge.

I’m Not Perfect, I’m Flawsome!

The photo that accompanies this post is one I never thought I’d share.

I’ve had it since 2003, and aside from the person who took it, I showed it to only one other person for years. Before I stepped onto this journey, there was no way I would have let anyone see it. In truth, it’s taken me more than a decade of healing to feel ready to share it at all.

That photo isn’t a picture of someone who had it together.
It isn’t the version of me I worked so hard to present to the world.

It’s a picture of a woman in pain.
In fear.
Holding on by a thread.

I look at her now and I recognize her immediately. She’s still inside me. But today, I feel compassion for her instead of shame. I understand what she was carrying. I understand why she was afraid. And I appreciate her—because she didn’t stay there.

She kept going.

And that’s what made her flawsome.

What Flawsome Really Means to Me

Flawsome isn’t pretending we don’t have flaws.
It’s not polishing them up or hiding them better.

Flawsome is learning to celebrate them.

It’s letting go of the impossible standard of perfection and choosing something real instead. Because perfection doesn’t exist—and chasing it only keeps us stuck in self-judgment.

Flawsome is turning the parts of yourself you once hated into sources of strength. It’s living authentically, loving yourself fully, and recognizing that who you are—right now—is already worthy.

Perfection isn’t attainable.
But flawsomeness is.

How I Learned to Become Flawsome

This didn’t happen overnight.

It came from learning who I actually am, not who I thought I needed to be. From loving myself unconditionally—even the parts I wanted to reject. From letting my freak flag fly instead of trying to tuck it away.

And yes, it came from forgiveness. Again.

Forgiving myself for the choices I made when I didn’t know better.
Forgiving myself for the years I spent believing I was unlovable.
Forgiving myself for thinking my flaws made me less-than.

Letting go of that judgment freed me in ways I never expected.

Loving Yourself Is the Work

I had to learn to look at myself with love—the same love I so easily offered to others.

To stop living in the past, replaying mistakes that couldn’t be undone.
To stop living in the future, chasing a version of myself I thought I had to become.

The only place healing actually happens is now.

I learned to focus on what I’m good at. To celebrate my strengths instead of obsessing over what I thought was broken. To build on my talents and share them with others.

One of the most powerful parts of being flawsome is letting other people see it. When we own who we are, we give others permission to do the same.

The Woman in That Photo Didn’t Stay There

There’s nothing flawsome about the woman in that photo—except this:

She didn’t give up.

With every bit of strength she had, she fought for herself. She started a journey toward healing and self-love. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t fast. And yes, she put herself through hell for years after that picture was taken.

But she got there.

And now, that woman is me—writing these words.

That’s flawsome.

If You’re Struggling Right Now

If you’re feeling lost, empty, beaten down, or hopeless—please hear this:

Today can be the first day of the rest of your life.

You don’t need to have it all figured out. You just need to decide that you’re worth fighting for. The journey won’t be easy, but I promise you—it’s worth every step.

And you don’t walk it alone.

You have all of us SLAYERS walking beside you.

So go out there today and be flawsome.

SLAY Reflection

Let’s reflect, SLAYER:

S: What parts of yourself have you labeled as flaws?
L: How have those “flaws” actually shaped your strength or resilience?
A: What would change if you looked at yourself with compassion instead of judgment?
Y: How can you begin turning what you’ve judged into something flawsome?

Make a commitment today to stop judging yourself. When something comes up that you usually criticize, pause. Smile. Ask yourself how you can respond with love instead.

You’re learning.
Be kind to yourself on the way to SLAYDOM.
And never forget—you are flawsome.