Since the last time I blogged, a lot of things have happened. I went home for spring break and cuddled my baby sister. I finally sucked up my pride and went to MIT Mental Health. I stopped eating for a while and survived pretty much solely on nutrition drinks and occasionally mac and cheese from a box. I gained back my appetite. I danced. I survived the semester and my slightly-psychotic-and-abusive studio professor. I completed my last studio of my college career.

I think feeling a little bit inadequate can be helpful sometimes because it drives me to work more and to work harder. I’ve always wanted to be the best, possibly because the ideal has been so ingrained in me from society and from my parents. But often times wanting to be the best just results in feeling really, really awful – like not beautiful enough and not smart enough and not hardworking enough and just not enough.

During the time I was unable to eat, I – understandably – lost a bunch of weight. I lost weight to the point where a pair of too-small jeans that used to be rub against my hip bones so much that it was painful to wear for more than half a day now fit me perfectly. It was weird – I was panicking that I was losing weight so quickly but some small part of me was almost happy that I might finally be the size I want to be.

I remember distinctly rubbing my elbows at one point and truly being taken aback at how spindly and pointy they felt. For some reason, I have become more aware of the sharp edges on my body. I think my panic over losing weight so quickly has caused me to become more understanding and more accepting of my body.

It’s enough.

I am enough.

My legs are enough. I have big thighs and big calves which make it hard to buy skinny jeans and normal boots, but they are enough. They let me explore the city and hike and walk and bike and dance.

My arms are enough. They are skinny and spindly and sharp but they help me be expressive.

My hands are enough. They are tiny but they are talented and steady and they allow me to express my creativity. They’re also really good at getting into hard-to-reach nooks and crannies, which is useful when someone drops something and also when I’m building detailed models.

My stomach is enough. I may have a little bit of a belly but it lets me eat lots of yummy food! I think this is something that I’ve always had trouble accepting – I’ve always wanted to be skinny, but now I understand that I would never give up my bottomless appetite for something so facetious.

My body is enough.

And I’m also slowly understanding that not just my body, but my mind… it’s also enough.

A couple days ago my friend commented to me that I work all the time. I laughed and I said that I do things other than work sometimes! I do side projects like crochet and knit and sew and draw and read and watch tv and sleep. I then realized that I had just included sleep as a fun, not-work thing, and I instantly sobered.

I’ve realized I need to start thinking in terms of being enough instead of not-enough. I am hardworking enough. I am talented enough. I am good enough. I am beautiful enough.

After all, I’m stuck being me for the rest of my life. Why spend it the rest of it continuing to beat myself up for not being enough?

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