autobibliography:

when your boss squints and shakes his head, he is not who you were made for. when your paycheck comes and it is so much or so little, it is not what you were made for. when your mother wants to know why you spend so much time alone, she is not who you were made for. when the sun is hot and it makes you faint/when the cold chaps your lungs and you feel so weak: it is not what you were made for. when you put on a dress and it pinches meanly: neither the clothes nor the body is what you were made for. when memories are cruel or people are shaming, when you aim for standards and flail and fail— they are not who you were made for. intent and becoming. grace. this is what you were made for.

(via n-x-northwest)

remembering pieces of identity (long, personal)

Something my therapist has been working on me with — or really something we did once and I have been trying to remember to do more often — is remembering parts of my identity from before my eating disorder and assault(s)*, or from outside that. Because I often feel that My Identity Is Survivor and My Identity Is EDNOS, and she wants me to remember that I am much more than that and I was someone before that and I can again be someone after it.

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