Stress is getting to me. Today, I put on a full face of makeup with the full intention of parading around LA. I have my favorite drugstore makeup products. I had my winged eyeliner on fleek My hair has all sorts of coconut and joboba oil and I looked fine hunny. I get ready, eat, and notice the familiar dark plunge of a panic attack. My heart was beating out of my chest and my stomach wrapped around itself. I went back to the bathroom and sat down on the chair there’s no room for.
It’s an odd sensation to look at yourself in the mirror. At times there is self-hate or awkwardness; I think most of us hope for a sense of neutrality. Because of all my ups and downs, looking at myself directly in the eye is no longer something to fear. I know all my thoughts. I explore my fears. I recognize that I am complicated. I scare myself.
The wholesomeness of childhood and adolescence is gone. I have to stare that in the face too.