One of my bucket list items was to get my face back.
This first picture was taken at my best friend’s house when I was 15. My life has gone through… well, a lot since then. At one point, I didn’t recognize my face anymore. It’s kinda fitting, I guess. My face and body showed externally the turmoil, pain, and grief that I was experiencing within—all suppressed with a smile. I’d lost who I was.
When my friend showed me this picture several years ago, I just died.
And all I wanted was to recognize my face again.
And I finally did it. I have lost 80 pounds. And while I definitely am not 15 anymore, I do recognize the face looking back at me. I like it even better because I can see how much I’ve learned, how much I’ve grown, and how much I’ve overcome. My body is scarred, it’s changed, but I think these scars are so beautiful. They tell a story of resilience and sacrifice that I am proud of.
Over the years, I’ve been fighting to put myself back together again. And I’m starting to see it. I have cried so many times out of just pure joy at recognizing the person looking back at me—not just in my reflection, but in everything I am becoming.
Healing really is possible. There is always, ALWAYS hope.
Where Rose Writes Very True Stories 