I have always believed that I am simultaneously too much and not enough. Too complicated, too intense, and too needy. Not sufficiently sunny in my outlook or flexible enough in how I meet the world.
Most of all, not compelling enough to be inherently lovable. It took 19 years for this duality to present as an eating disorder.
I don’t know why I held these beliefs as a child as I was raised in a stable, loving family, and my two sisters unquestioningly accepted their place in the world and felt entitled to happiness.
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