I often hate my body. Hate it for its limitations, the torturing pain, debilitating fatigue and constant weakness. I’m 28, feeling more like 82.
But my soul, my spirit, is young at heart, even if it’s been matured through tough times and difficult truths. This body of mine has survived years of abuse, fear and control.
It’s been the means I had to survive, and it’s now paying the price. It’s not its fault, nor is it mine. It’s an unfair reality, but it’s up to me to make it my best reality in spite of the damage.Read more on themighty.com