Sometimes the world is a fucked up place. And sometimes there ain’t shit we can do about it. We are forced to play the cards were dealt. And we have to struggle. But you know what? The world is a constantly evolving place. Ideas change. Tradition’s change. People change too.
There are people out there that help others fight their demons. Some are even fighting their own. And that’s the most beautiful thing about this world and humanity. Stay strong and keep your head above the fog for as long as you can. And always try to love yourself first. Remember that there is someone out there that will listen, be your shoulder to cry on, and love you.
“Gotta have opposites, light and dark and dark and light, in painting. It’s like in life. Gotta have a little sadness once in awhile so you know when the good times come. I’m waiting on the good times now.” – Bob Ross
I appreciate the days without the fog distorting the beauty of the world. I’m always worrying when it’ll come back though. I try not to. But it hangs in the back of my thoughts. I keep it in a small locked box. Sometimes the fog opens it but on these days I’m strong enough to keep locking it and return to my day. I enjoy this strength. This happiness. This beauty. I wish I can keep it going forever. But the fog is only sleeping. It needs its breaks too. This is a constant battle after all.
The trees are a bit greener. The birds sing more beautifully. The sun seeps into my skin and I glow. I smile for real this time. My laugh robust. I share this happiness with others. I walk with purpose. Head high with confidence.
It feels good. I feel good. I will cherish this moment all day.
Is it weird for me to still love how I look even when I’m depressed? I steal a glance or two of myself in the mirror and think “well at least I’m still beautiful.” That’s the power of self-love. Also the power of my boyfriend’s love. I can’t give myself all the credit, he has a part to play in my self-acceptance. We’ve been together since 2014 and he managed to make me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. He tells me almost everyday that I am beautiful and he loves me. But with depression, you would think that I would hate my looks while I’m depressed.
I didn’t always love the way I looked of course. Like every human being. I hated my dark skin and “nappy” hair. I hated how big my nose looked on my small face. I hated that my eyes were dark brown. I wanted them to be hazel or green. I hated (still kind of don’t like) how thin (underweight) I am. I’ve always enjoyed being short though. I hate cooking while being short. It turns into a workout. I wasn’t like most girls growing up. I wasn’t obsessed with using makeup to “enhance” my beauty. I did cover up my “nappy” hair using weaves and chemicals. But that was the only thing I did to change my appearance so I can at least like something about myself.
I hated that I didn’t look like a “normal black girl.” I had (still have) no curves, small breasts, and a small butt. I was obsessed over this and often googled “how to grow boobs” or “how to make my butt bigger.” I was always comparing my growth to the woman and girls in my family and thought “there must be something wrong with me.” Plus I use to stuff my bra. But that was in middle school and I stopped after watching that episode of “As Told By Ginger.” I did not want to be embarrassed like that so I stopped as quickly as I started.
Like most people I grew up with people telling me I’m beautiful the way I am. Also like most people I didn’t start believing it until my sophomore or junior year of high school. I stopped wearing weaves and
learned tried to learn how to take care of my natural hair. I’m still learning but my depression makes me “lazy.” It was a slow acceptance of my own beauty but I am glad that it’s almost complete.
I love my eyes, the color, the shape. Yeah, they aren’t unique but they are mine. I no longer think my nose is too big. In fact, it’s the perfect size for my face. I am obsessed with my dark skin now. I love how it glows under the sun. I love how thin I am but I do think I should put on more weight so I can be healthier. I love my small breast. I don’t have to wear bras or worry about back pain. And I love my natural hair. I need to take care of it. It’s currently breaking off and dry because I don’t do anything to it. In order for my to accept my natural beauty, I need to take better care of my hair and weight.
probably won’t cure my depression but it might make it easier to deal with. I can not imagine going to the mirror and hating myself through and through. Not able to see the beauty in me. I am grateful that I have accepted looks thus far.
it’s like i have a veil of fog in front of me
obscuring my vision distorting the beauty around me
but i desperately want to see it and enjoy it
but the fog doesn’t go away