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Iris Lorena

Serendipity of Self

For a long time in my life, I had deep-seated and highly perplexing self-esteem issues.

The majority of people don't believe me when I say this, which is understandable.

The woman I have become bears no resemblance to the girl I once was.


And for this, I am grateful. Most people would probably not recognise me if they met me at the age of 13.


As incredulous as it may seem, I became well-acquainted with the word "depression" at this young age.

To provide some context, let's back up just a little.

 

As a child, I confess that I was, for a while, greatly over-protected.


This can most probably be attributed to various factors; the death of my sister, the separation of my parents, the dissolution of my family, and the fact that I was the baby.

Up until the age of 10, I was a spoiled mummy's girl. At parties, I wouldn't leave my mother's side. I hated playing with kids my age. Having grown up around adults, I felt that they had nothing to say that would be remotely interesting to me.


My move from Lisbon to London at the age of 7 stole a lot of confidence I had in myself. I was no longer loud as I could not speak English. I was no longer social as all I wanted was to be invisible.


It took away the voice I had unknowingly taken for granted.


What truly started the beginning of the deterioration of my self-esteem was school.


As most of us know, kids can be extremely cruel.


I was teased for not being "intelligent" enough to speak English, so I studied hard to prove them wrong. I worked so hard that I went from being bullied for being "stupid" to being shunned for being a "know-it-all".


It seemed as though nothing I did was right, and as a child desperate to find her place in a new country...this truly shattered me.


Fast-forward 2 different moves to 2 other schools later, and every attempt proved to be yet another fail.


No matter where I went, fitting in seemed impossible.


By the age of 11, I was finally in UK Secondary school and made a best friend that felt more like a twin sister (looks aside). We did and went everywhere together.


She introduced me to a world I never dreamed existed. The world of Wicca.


I learned about a very different way of living. I met genuinely friendly, accepting and remarkably welcoming people.


However, this too was not to last. Only a year later, my newfound friendship was thwarted by distance. My support system moved away.


From this moment on, I would encounter a different kind of bullying. One that would finally drive me to the brink and shape how I would live my life from then on.

I encountered a girl so desperate to fill in the space that was left by my friend, that not having succeeded, proceeded to actively make my life hell.

Following in my friend's footsteps, being no longer able to tolerate the abuse, I moved once again to a new school.

This was when I decided I would never again allow anyone to have the power to make me feel bad.

I decided then that no matter what happened or how weak I felt on the inside, no one would ever see it.

Showing weakness would no longer be an option.

 

By the age of 13, most traces of the naive, spoiled, gullible child had vanished.


On the inside, I felt like a true imposter.

On the outside, all that could be seen was a girl that skipped school whenever possible, had grades that were far from the pristine A+'s from before, and was now going down a path most parents fear.


I had abandoned the various soul-searching phases I had ventured throughout those short years.


From Wiccan to skater, punk and goth...my new circle had transitioned me into another, parallel world that was truly foreign to me.


The "ghetto" world.


I became a stranger to even myself.

At 13, as I attempted to find myself, I lost myself entirely.

Although I never showed it, deep down, I was truly and utterly broken.

The next few years were some of the darkest of my life.


I wish words could describe the sheer darkness of the well in which my mind resided for so many years.


I began smoking, disobeying my mum, staying out until late and drinking alcohol whenever I could, and (ashamedly) self-harming.

For the first time in my life, I did feel accepted and, most importantly, respected. In fact, it was the first time that I learned the power that fear could have.


I started to surround myself with people I aspired to be like. I taught myself to fake every emotion and every attitude that definitely did not come naturally to me.


Strangely, being around girls that I deemed much better than myself had a dual effect.


On one hand, I compared myself to them every day, which hurled me further down the dark well.

On the other hand, somehow, over the years, faking it would actually become the cure to all my problems.

Eventually, I began to believe all the lies I had told myself over the years.

I grew to believe that I was strong, I was respected, and I was beautiful.

Even now, I cannot tell you exactly when this came to be. All I know is that one day, I woke up, and I no longer hated the person looking back at me in the mirror.

From then on, I made a conscious effort to continue saying these things to myself every single day, whether or not I believed them to be true.

 

As the years went on and I transitioned to a somewhat decent and confident adult, I was not prepared for the brutal blow my confidence would suffer as my narcolepsy symptoms slowly exacerbated.


For 2 years following my diagnosis, I maintained this a very well-kept secret.


It took me 2 full years to finally stop and not only really look inside myself to understand where the real me was within a carefully constructed web of years of a manufactured persona, but to also have to accept that I would simultaneously have to say goodbye to that girl immediately after.


You see, what people fail to understand is that being diagnosed with a life-long, chronic illness kills an intrinsic part of yourself.

Anyone who has been diagnosed with a chronic illness will, at some point, have to mourn the person they used to be.

Because life post-diagnosis just isn't the same. You will never again be the same.


With awareness, comes responsibility. With responsibility, comes a change in priorities.


This is not to say that absolutely everything will change unless of course, you wish it to, but internally the reality shift is undeniable.


The funny thing is, having to rebuild my self-love has actually allowed it to become much more authentic, solid and enduring.

 

I don't lament my past at all, nor do I lament my present.

I am profoundly grateful that my past struggles forced me to fortify my defences and overcome the stifling and toxic inadequacy I felt for so long.

These days, I can honestly say that I am genuinely content within myself.


I have come to learn that no matter how much something hurts, how lonely you may sometimes feel or how long it seems to last...if you do not allow these moments to consume you, they will assuredly only strengthen you.


I know that the phrase "life is too short" has been almost vulgarised by this point, but I still think it doesn't take away from its veracity.


We spend too much time worrying about things that just don't matter in the long run.


Is this the life I would have chosen for myself?


Most definitely not.


But in life, there is no point wasting time lamenting the hand you have been dealt.


The only thing you can (and should) do...is make the time you have on this earth the best for yourself and for as many people as you possibly can.

 

Thank you all so much for reading!

thank you from life in flashes












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