I miss her. I miss who I was before everything happened. Before everything I remember. I often hear stories about who I was, stories I don’t remember, characteristics I don't recognize. I miss how my life was calm. How making decisions was easy. How I could do anything I wanted, no second thoughts. I miss how talking to people was fun, easy. And I wonder how I could miss something I never had.
In my brain, I was never normal. I was different. And life told me that I wasn't a good different. I wasn't right. I was nothing, beneath everything and everyone. Therefore, I deserved nothing. I wasn't worth anything. And, in turn, I didn't deserve to be helped.
That idea had been drilled so far into my brain, that accepting any form of help or love hurts me. When I'm offered help or shown an act of love, my heart sinks into my stomach, the atmosphere becomes unbearably hot and my mind races all over the place. I feel guilty and selfish. I feel pathetic.
Accepting help I don't think I deserve is hard. It’s crippling. And it's consuming. The feeling of uselessness. Helplessness. Knowing you need something, and not being able to get it because you believe that you aren't worth it. That the money spent on professional help would be a waste, because you believe you could never be fixed.
That part of me is in a constant fight with the part of me that believes in a better world, in a better me. The part of me that believes that I’m no different than the people I believe are worth it. I’m no different than the broken precious vase that is put back together delicately and patiently, with care and with love. I deserve everything I believe everyone else deserves. The part that believes everything can be fixed, everything can be changed and everything can get better. I can get better.
That’s a fight I’ve been forced to fight daily. Everything I go through is accompanied with the thought of how much easier everything would be if I had help from someone who could shed a little light into the dark room my brain resides in. How much easier things would be if I were ‘normal’. If I just loved myself.
I forgot my worth, forgot my value and I forgot my humanity. And none of that is my fault. That is a hard concept to grasp. It's hard to change everything everyone has been telling you. Even if you know it’s wrong.
But little by little, I rising above that way of thinking. Little by little, I come across people that are fighting the same fight I am. Little by little, lights are being handed out to everyone stuck in the darkness and little by little, light is overpowering the darkness in our beings that stop us from accepting.
I'm learning to give love, and receive it. Learning to accept love and learning to give myself a share from the love I'm spreading. Because I'm worthy of it and so much more.
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Nadia kamal is a senior in high school. She aspires to leave her footprint in this world by leaving it a better place.