Fat Girl,

Strange and unprepared.

July 26, 2013 52 Comments

This is a con­ver­sa­tion I don’t know how to have.

How do I write about no longer iden­ti­fy­ing as a Chris­t­ian in a way that won’t turn my entire world upside down?

I guess I’m doing it some­thing like this. But I’m not hold­ing onto hope for keep­ing my world aright.

The lan­guage of Chris­tian­i­ty is still my moth­er tongue. The cul­ture of Chris­tian­i­ty is still my home­town. I don’t know any­thing else.

This is a strange place for me to be.

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Silence.

April 11, 2013 1 Comment

There is so much I want to say. So much I want to talk about, share, unload from the heav­i­ness of my heart and dredge up from the murk­i­ness of the swirling waters of thoughts in my head. There are peo­ple who have con­tact­ed me that I want to respond to.

But all I can real­ly muster is silence.

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We don’t have to be okay.

January 11, 2013 10 Comments

You don’t have to be okay.

You’re allowed to be sad.

You’re allowed to cry.

You’re allowed to be over­whelmed.

It’s okay. Real­ly.

Not being okay is okay some­times.

You don’t owe hap­pi­ness to peo­ple when you don’t feel it.

You don’t owe hap­pi­ness to peo­ple at the expense of your emo­tion­al and men­tal and spir­i­tu­al health.

It’s okay to take care of you, and some­times that looks like not being okay.

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Existential perfection, problematic cultural systems, and being okay.

January 5, 2013 76 Comments

These cul­tures, these sys­tems of thought, are per­va­sive. Good peo­ple with good inten­tions per­pet­u­ate these sys­tems unknow­ing­ly with­out under­stand­ing the con­se­quences.

But these sys­tems do have con­se­quences.

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The body I have.

January 2, 2013 125 Comments

Nei­ther being fat nor being female is shame­ful. My fem­i­nine body doesn’t have the mag­i­cal myth­i­cal abil­i­ty to strip away the log­i­cal thought-process­es of men, mak­ing them into help­less hor­mone-dri­ven apes. My fat body is still my body, and it’s my vehi­cle in this life. It doesn’t belong to any­one else for their com­men­tary, cri­tique, or approval. It belongs to me. It harms no one.

These con­cepts may seem real­ly sim­ple and obvi­ous. But I’ve strug­gled with them sub­con­scious­ly for all of my life. And as I sit here in my skin­ny jeans and fit­ted top, for the first time in my life I am fat, female, and unashamed.

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I want to believe.

December 27, 2012 0 Comments

I want to believe, but at the same time I have to find joy even when I don’t. I have to know that it’s okay not to believe. Good things hap­pen, good things exist, even in doubt and uncer­tain­ty. And if they exist in doubt and uncer­tain­ty, they will exist still in belief.

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Introspection on depression, anxiety, eating disorders, and life.

November 9, 2012 0 Comments

What’s so wrong with atten­tion? Does my wast­ing body not tell you about my wast­ing soul? Do the scars on my arms and legs not tell you about the scars on my soul? For the girl with the words, the girl who was going to write books some day, I nev­er ever had the words for the pain. And I still don’t, even though I’ve long left the starv­ing and cut­ting.

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A strong legacy.

May 29, 2012 0 Comments

Mom,

You know how you always say that a let­ter is bet­ter than a gift, because it’s some­thing you can read over and over again through the years? Well, I thought that maybe I’d make my let­ter to you pub­lic, so oth­er peo­ple can enjoy how awe­some you are, too.

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The proper response.

December 8, 2011 12 Comments

Trig­ger warn­ing: sex­u­al assault, rape.

When some­one tells you that they have been sex­u­al­ly assault­ed, harassed, molest­ed, raped, or any­thing of the sort, the prop­er response is to say, “I’m so sor­ry. It wasn’t your fault. What hap­pened to you was rep­re­hen­si­ble, and no one should be forced to go through that. What can I do to be there for you? Do you want to report it to the police? I will be with you every step of the way, no mat­ter what you do. You’re not alone.”

If you have any doubts about whether or not they are telling the truth, the prop­er response is still the same as the above. Do not voice your lack of con­cern. Do not voice or oth­er­wise show your increduli­ty. Be noth­ing short of sup­port­ive.

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Hershel.

January 8, 2011 0 Comments

My grand­fa­ther passed away this morn­ing. He died in his reclin­er, cof­fee cup beside him, half-emp­ty pack­et of tobac­co stick­ing out of his pock­et (with a wad in his mouth), watch­ing the WVU pre-game. Heart attack — his fourth one, though first in over a decade. He was 78 years old.

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