Has this week felt extra long to anyone else? It feels like weeks sine I wrote my last blog post! Did everyone have a fabulous Valentine’s Day? As planned, I enjoyed my movie, an organic spinach and feta pizza, and half baked Ben & Jerry’s froyo. I know I said I was going all out on Papa John’s and actual ice cream, but the “healthier” versions sounded so much yummier this year! So I went with it. Notice the quotations…haha.
Today’s guest blogger is a fabulous woman I came across during an Instagram challenge. #POPLoveYogies I believe it was? She was absolutely incredible in my eyes. Her personality and spunk shines in everything she does, and I just couldn’t ignore her awesomeness. I started following her and since then have been able to witness how much she has grown in this community. She still fascinates me and I am so honored to have her write for today’s #SelfLoveSunday blog post! Her words brought me to tears. I had to collect myself before I could continue reading because I couldn’t see through them. Thank you for your bravery in sharing your story Morgan.
“After a life of fear, I am no longer afraid and I no longer let the little doubts that creep in take control.“
Hello! Abbie, aka, Blogibabe asked me to write a piece on #selflove. I am not really sure what I am doing, but I was honored to be asked so I decided to give it a go. Self love for me has been a battle. A long, hard battle. I grew up in a house where my mother left when I was young and my dad had a mental illness he coped with by drinking. He was not a nice man. I grew up with my two sisters and I being called ‘worthless’, ‘trash’, ‘nothing but whores like our mother’, and so much more on top of being his punching bags. To top it off, I had developed a severe social anxiety disorder that I didn’t recognize until much older. I didn’t have, many friends and didn’t have the escape my sisters often had. He was also very resentful of the fact that he didn’t believe I was his and maybe he was right. He taught me what it was like to have my life threatened and he taught me what it was like to just want him to do it and get it over with. He made me ok with dying. Around the time when things started to get really bad, I was developing like a woman. I had D cups in sixth grade and a skinny, little body because food wasn’t always available. Grown men outside of my home would talk to me like I was a woman and in ways I didn’t understand. Girls my age would make fun of me and call me a slut because of my shape and I had never even kissed a boy. I lived in oversized sweat shirts and jeans, even in the summer. I lost me, I became this empty person to cope. The older I got, the easier it was to fake it. I drowned myself in working three jobs at a time as soon as I got a vehicle and pushed anyone who got close away. The whole time, this battle was raging in my head while on the surface, I was bubbly and happy. Then, I met my husband. The world stood still and I was his and he was mine and the darkness eased. We were married shortly after that and a year after that our daughter was born and then a year after that our son was born and I put on over 100 pounds and I was ashamed of how I looked and how little I could do physically. I mean, I have never been healthy, but I couldn’t even walk a short flight of stairs without stopping to breathe. I was ashamed to be seen in public with my tall, thin husband because people would wonder what the hell he was doing with me. It got to the point that leaving the house was hard. I would walk down the street and people would throw things and yell how fat I was, like I didn’t know. I felt like a piece of garbage. Fast forward to the year before last, my dad was dying. The alcohol abuse finally caught up with him and I had to help take care of him. At the same time he was sick, I got sick. I was diagnosed with PCOS and had a cyst with a life of its own on my ovary and the doctor was worried about cancer because it kept growing and growing. Then my dad died and I was in charge of all of the arrangements and my sisters were at war and I had to please everyone and I let it crush me. That was what I called my ‘dark time’. I sank so low, of course I faked it for my kiddos, but I was dark inside. Shortly after all that, Blogilates (who I have been following for a bit) dropped her PIIT28 workout and my husband knew I adored her and he got it for me. I was terrified to start it, but something made me do it even though it was a crazy struggle. My strength kept building along with my confidence and the darkness eased. What really saved me, though, was the piitstagram photo challenge. I was so afraid because here I am, this fat and frumpy older woman surrounded by young and fit beauties. They were going to rip me apart because I didn’t belong. Those beauties didn’t rip me apart, they embraced me, built me up, encouraged me, and not once made me feel ashamed. I posted each day and was as open and honest as I could be and as I posted each post, I started to heal. Even the memories I had blocked out started coming back and it was ok. I started to come to terms with everything in my my life. I had an epiphany, a person’s life does not make the person. The person makes their life. I am not a product of my environment, I am me. I make my own choices and I have nothing to be ashamed of. This past year has been the most healing time of my life and for the first time, I don’t have to fake it. I am not ashamed of me, I am not ashamed of my body. I flipping love me. I can do things I have never thought possible and I am a warrior. My body is my pride, I may still be fat and that is ok because I can rock the shit out of it. I no longer let words hurt me and a lot of people told me that I have really blossomed this past year. The most important thing is that, I am not afraid. After a life of fear, I am no longer afraid and I no longer let the little doubts that creep in take control. I believe in me and I am awesome. ❤❤❤
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Thanks for reading!