Actually, I'm not fine… blog

Part 3: The Body and the Mirror

Trigger Warning (18+): This post discusses body image struggles, disordered eating, and self-harm. If you are in crisis, please seek immediate help (resources at the bottom).

The body was never just a body for me: it was a battlefield.

Everywhere I looked, there were rules for how I should look, how I should dress, how I should take up space. Society gave me two choices: “too much” or “not enough.” If I wore makeup, it was “attention-seeking.” If I didn’t, it was “lazy.” If I dressed conservatively, I was a “prude.” If I wore something different, it was “slutty.” No matter what, the verdict was the same: not right, not good enough.

At home, the words cut deeper. I was told I was too this, too that… names and labels that stuck like glue on my skin. The shame seeped into how I ate, how I stood, even how I breathed. Some days I punished myself by withholding food. Other days I drowned feelings with overeating. Neither path offered peace. Both paths left me feeling like my body was the enemy.

By middle school, the mirror became a judge I couldn’t escape. I would check myself dozens of times a day, searching for flaws, never satisfied. The reflection was never just a reflection; it was a confirmation of everything I thought the world hated about me. And the cruelest part? Even when strangers gave me compliments on my hair, my smile, my shirt. I couldn’t believe them. The shame voice inside me was louder than kindness.

I thought if I could just look a certain way, maybe people would accept me. Maybe I’d stop being a target. Maybe I’d finally belong. But the truth I didn’t learn until much later is this: changing your appearance never silences the voices of cruelty. You can starve yourself into a smaller frame or paint your face into a mask, but if people are determined to see you as “not enough,” they will.

The problem was never my body. The problem was the standards.

It took years for me to understand that the fight wasn’t really about makeup, clothes, or weight, it was about control. The world tried to control me by telling me what was acceptable. And I tried to control the chaos in my life by controlling my body. Both were cages.

Now, I’m slowly learning a different truth: your body doesn’t have to earn love. It doesn’t have to meet impossible standards. It doesn’t even have to look “presentable” for you to be worthy. You deserve kindness whether you’re in sweatpants, dressed up, barefaced, or painted in full glam. You deserve love whether you’re struggling with food or finally finding balance.

It’s not an easy mindset to keep. Some days I still catch myself staring too long in the mirror, criticizing, adjusting, wishing. But other days I notice the small victories: wearing something that feels good on me, not for anyone else. Smiling because I mean it. Looking in the mirror and saying, “This is enough.”

And maybe that’s the point: not to erase the struggle, but to keep showing up for yourself through it.

If you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt like your body isn’t enough: hear me clearly. You are more than enough. You are radiant, even when you can’t see it yourself.

If you are having thoughts of harming yourself or struggling with disordered eating, please reach out for support.
U.S. Suicide & Crisis Lifeline: Call or text 988 (24/7).
NEDA Helpline (Eating Disorders): 1-800-931-2237 or text NEDA to 741741.
U.K./Ireland (Samaritans): 116 123.
International: Visit the International Association for Suicide Prevention for resources in your country.