Just a warning, this journal might be heavy. I will be talking about body image, eating disorders, and trauma. Reader discretion is advised.

I used to hate myself. I truly did. I know hate is a strong word. My mother often reminded us not to use the word because it was too strong of a word, especially when what we really meant was dislike. But I really did hate myself. There were days I would wake up and look in the mirror only to be disgusted and ashamed of what I saw. I would say mean things like “How did you let yourself get like this,” or “you’re fat and ugly,” or “you’re disgusting.” All while looking at myself in the mirror. When I saw myself naked, I would have a visceral reaction to my body, which led to severe depression and eating disorders. 

I was cruel to myself throughout my teens, 20s, and 30s. In my teens and early 20s, I was in the best shape of my life. I could walk and bike for miles without breaking a sweat. I was curvy and beautiful. But when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t see that. I saw a blob. So I ate my feelings. I ate and ate to make myself feel better, but it only worsened as I gained more weight. By 25, I was over 300 lbs. and growing. At 36, I was almost at 500 lbs. I gained almost 200 lbs. in nine years. I’ve been slowly eating myself to death. I knew I was out of control and needed help. 

Then I met my therapist. He helped me dig deep into my fears and resentments, childhood trauma, and my relationship with food. He gave me tools to cope with my inner critic and be kinder to myself. Through our sessions, we talked a lot about my childhood. I realized I had never experienced love in my younger years. What I thought was love wasn’t. The independence that was beaten into me made me feel even lonelier. I didn’t feel like I could trust anyone around me. This lack of love was where my self-loathing started. I thought, “if my family doesn’t love me, why should I love myself,” or “you’ll never be loved.” These are awful things for a 14-year-old to be thinking. I had no idea I was holding on to this garbage for so long.

I’m thankful for my therapist every day. Together we have made great strides in healing my inner child and the decades of trauma I was holding on to. Today, I can look in the mirror without disgust. I’m gentler with how I talk to myself and my inner child, reminding myself that little Rei can hear what I say. I still have a lot of work to do to get to a place of true self-love, but at least it’s a start.