To All Of You Struggling With Your Bodies, Keep Going. You Will Never Regret Choosing To Live. I Love

To all of you struggling with your bodies, keep going. You will never regret choosing to live. I love each and every one of you 💛

Nothing hurts quite like watching your loved ones enjoy delicious food that you'd do almost anything to eat while you starve and envy them and your stomach churns, empty with acid and consuming itself.

You don't want this. No one should covet Anorexia Nervosa, or any ED. They are pain and suffering and misery. Get out while you can. Get out before it's a disorder and no longer a crash diet that you started just to lose a few pounds. It's not worth it.

Fight. Please. For those of us who know nothing else anymore, fight for your life. Because if you don't fight, the only way out is a slow and painful death. Please don't give up, it's never too late but it does get harder and harder the longer you suffer. Get help.

This is what I mean when I say love is beautiful. Straight or gay, it's all love.

sweethearts in photo booths (1920s-1960s)

I don't know who needs to hear this, but if you're 11-18, you don't need to be worrying about your body. You are a child. You are going to change so much in the next couple of years, so give yourself some time. Feed yourself for all of the changes your body is going through. You don't need to have slim thighs, bigger breasts, a smaller waist, toned arms, a round butt, abs, or any of the standards the world has used to lie to you. You also should not be comparing yourself TO ANYONE. Not the sophomore you pass by in the hallways, not the actress on the TV, not even your sister. People that are younger than you, your age, or especially if they are older, don't compare yourself to them. You don't understand the difference just a few years can make. I cannot tell you how much I changed from age 13 to 14 years old, both mentally and physically. That's only one year of time. And please do not compare yourself to adults. Even if you aren't 11-18, there is still no reason to compare yourself. Be kind to yourself. Please. You are so much more than your body. I know it doesn't feel that way but I promise.

The Notebook x FirstPrince

Paper Cranes

TW: homophobia, bullying, church abuse, swearing, assault, ED, SH, compulsive exercising, Republicans, purity culture, evangelical crap, but most of all middle school. If I’ve failed to include anything, just let me know. Fr I wrote it for me and posted it for those who might find my experience affirming. I’m all good if you need to scroll right on past a trauma post.

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The first time I ever watched homophobic bullying was in my pastor’s office. All the teens were waiting around a table for our youth pastor. There was one gay boy, a close friend of mine in a relatively small group. From the first week his family joined our church, an older girl in youth group announced to the rest of us that she couldn’t stand him because “he’s too happy and sings too much.” It was true. The new boy was the most cheerful, outgoing person I’d ever met. And he loves to sing.

The same girl gave a similar PSA behind my back when I was new. “We shouldn’t play with her because she’s weird and wears dress up clothes.” I was six. And it was true, I did wear a princess costume every day. Eventually I traded in my tutus for some looks that better reflected internalized misogyny and everyone figured out I’m funny as all shit and can get along with most anyone. I graduated from the bottom of the food chain.

So I shrugged off her hot take on my new friend. I don’t think she liked that her plans to cancel the new guy flopped. Because as we were waiting around that table she jumped up and grabbed his earlobe between her finger nails. She was super proud of her nails. They were long and scraggly like a cat and she was into filing them in public in case anyone felt too safe.

She dug her nails in on either side and no one said anything. You don’t stand up for a boy to a girl. I can’t remember if he tried to swat her off or just took it. It was only a minute but it was a damn long one. Blood started to bead around her nails. Then the door opened and she sat back down. Sunday school started.

Nothing I believed, no books, no paper, no concept of abomination could override what I’d just seen, the revulsion deep in my gut. It was more than rage. More than disgust. I still have no word for it. I was too young and the feelings that well up are still those of a thirteen year old.

It doesn’t matter what you call it. Anger like that is like walking around dead and suddenly finding your pulse because it’s roaring in your ears like a jackhammer.

I prayed to be like everyone else. To care about the same social issues in the same way. The only way I could make sense of my loneliness was that I was cursed in some way. If God loved me, he would make me content with the same values as my peers. But I had just seen someone harm someone else and not a single one of these fine, upstanding kids I’m supposed to make friends with say a damn thing.

A few years later, there was some kinda touchy-feeling Jesus shindig where everyone got real sugared up at night and had a big sing along with some college kids who were supposedly qualified to talk about the deep shit with us. If I mentioned their university you’d recognize it. Hint: assault cover ups

One guy, nineteen or so, must have gotten particularly inspired in the spirit because he starts preaching off-the-cuff about the sins of anorexia, binging, purging, and cutting. I inched backward. I tried hiding behind a football player; I was about half his width after all.

Peggy, what’s up with the bandaids?

I guess I tripped over a wall.

Hey I have a joke. How many Peggies can you fit in the shower? No one knows because—-

— I keep slipping down the drain. Heard that one.

Eat a fucking sandwich, you skinny cunt

The best part of the speech is it was addressed to us about the bad, vague other kids who barfed and otherwise screwed around. Those poor fuck-ups, insulting God’s creation by choosing to defile their bodies.

I couldn’t wait to get home and go for it, but felt a whole lot more like a compulsion than a choice.

I’ve heard this sermon twice, by the way. The second time, the pastor held up a paper crane and asked us to admire its delicacy and the skill it took to make it before shredding it up. Guess he worked hard on that metaphor.

That was me. A paper crane. Pure white, crafted precisely, folded up small. You could pinch my wings between your fingernails and pull them off. I wouldn’t bleed and you could vacuum me up. That was my power. The control in the fine lines and tight folds.

Anyway here I am squirming on my butt and waiting for my chance to burn off my two bites of pizza and Oreos. I’m pretty sure I’d made everyone laugh by scooting the cookies into my mouth from my forehead with no hands. See, everyone, I eat. Yeah, I was gonna have to get in some crunches tonight.

I wondered if I could chug enough lemon water to get diarrhea without being noticed, when somehow, we were looking at each other. The boy’s eyes were bright blue. Ice blue, like in cheesy books. Gay.

Skinny.

Leviticus. The apostle Paul.

Cutter.

It’s a powerful feeling, that two seconds of eye-contact that lets you know you aren’t crazy. That you aren’t the only one in the room who is angry. It is taking a hand to find it as wounded as yours.

Whatever is divine in this world, whatever is true and special and outside of ourselves, it is in the rage you can’t shake. If a voice is telling you that no one deserves to be treated this way, that you inherently do not deserve this, and you say shut up and shut up and shut up and it won’t

Shut up, shut up,

and your only answer is this is bullshit. You should get up and leave

Shut up

I said you are free to walk out,

I can’t,

well then I say you can. I say Truth never left you and you’re not dead.

disclaimer: I did not write this to shit on Christians (I am a Christian) or any tradition in general but the corruption that exists in specific systems

other disclaimer: the other kids in this story were literally also just kids, even the mean ones. I’m pretty sure all of them have grown into sensible adults I’d hang out with. I did not write this to shit on them either.

Tw queerphobia and religion and the like

Happy Pride to my queer Christian siblings. I know it's hard. I know it hurts.

Happy Pride to all of you, wherever you are at in your journey, whether you are living out loud, or spending every night in tears begging God to take away the gay. I've been there. You are not alone. You are not a unicorn.

I know what it's like to spew hate to stay safe, feelin that hate cut my own gums like acid, I've broken down in tears wondering why God allowed me to struggle this way.

Start your journey. I can't tell you where it will take you. That's between you and God. There are books about gay Christians who've wound up on both sides. Read them. Two I would recommend are "Single, Gay. Christian" by Gregory Coles and "Torn" by Justin Lee. They are both about this culture war between the church and the LGBTQ+ community, that we are particularly torn between, each author winding up having opposite views about how queer Christians should live and what the bible says about it. Also, this should go without saying, read your bible, do your own searching, don't let someone else tell you what it says.

Also this is not a secret to take to your grave, it will just put you in the grave sooner. Find someone you can safely tell. Be careful who you pick, not every one is safe, even if you're "not practicing," but for the love of mercy and grace find someone. Whichever side of the fence you wind up on there ARE others like you. Find them. Support each other, what you are going through is different than what cishets go through, which ever side of the fence you wind up on.