The horrible opinions we have towards ourselves are not possible to be true

Not caring can literally change EVERYTHING! When I was a teenager I used to write stories and songs and I would sing my songs when I was alone all the time. When I was a child no one really ever complimented me except my family so by the time I grew up I felt worthless and not good at anything. I thought all my stories were horrible ideas and my songs were horrible and I was a horrible singer. I thought I wasn’t going to ever have a boyfriend or get a good job so I based my whole future on my singing and my stories, which was crazy considering for a long time no one ever saw them. I started telling my mom some ideas I had for stories. Looking back I am baffled that it took me so long to tell her about my ideas. I started telling others about my ideas but I still barely opened up because, maybe one person thought my idea was good but I felt everyone else would hate it. I thought the writing inside the main idea of the story was bad as well. I thought I had a terrible voice. Eventually I beat myself up way too much over my singing and writing that I stopped. Now, I’m not interested in writing stories and I wish I was. I am however still writing songs and singing though. I think about if I started a blog when I was 15. I have no clue what it would have been about, maybe about struggling with an eating disorder or poetry or something, but either way, looking back to then, I would have NEVER started a blog, and here I am now because I don’t care if people think my writing sucks. I record myself singing and I think I sound fine, and a whole lot better than my brain told me I sounded. This made me think that when I was 15 I thought I had no future. I still struggle with it. I still struggle with the thought I had at 15 where I would never get married or have a boyfriend. But guess what 15 year old me! You have had boyfriends since then! I don’t think I ever would have thought that I would ever tell anyone about my eating disorder and here I am writing a blog about it. When I write I add little lines in my blog that I like that my 15 year old self would have probably deleted off this blog page and put it in a journal only for her to see so that she could protect that one piece of self love from someone tearing that sentence to shreds, when she thought it was lovely. I am writing now, not because of the same reasons I wrote when i was a teenager. I write because I want to share things with people instead of just writing stories I make up, and my courage to share my eating disorder story, something I isolated myself and kept a secret from everyone since i was 15, has helped me recover. Maybe if I wasn’t so fearful I would have realized nothing really can have the capacity to be as bad as our minds tell us they will be. Sometimes we hide because we think people are going to say completely horrible things about us, but sometimes those words that we think are going to be used to describe us… that kind of evil in the world really doesn’t even exist. The lengths that self-loathing goes to destroy us, didn’t think about the fact that it is so impossible to be as horrid as we think we are.