Occasional Paper
The Facets of a Diamond
[Warning: I really really hope this isn't a trigger for anyone...Don't read if you're emotionally unstable.]
This is mine.
This is my own little poisonous secret. This is unaffected by school, by my parents, by anything else in life.
Every moment of the average teenager’s life is controlled by one external force or another. The state law decides for me that I must wake up early each morning to attend school. The teachers decide what I learn. Powerschool decides that I must spend my evening doing homework. My parents decide if I can leave my house. My friends and my boyfriend decide what mood and emotions I experience. The clothes I own are decided by the money in my wallet, the money in my wallet is decided by my employment status, my employment status is decided by my ability and free time, my free time is decided by homework and extra-curricular activities, my extra-curricular activities are decided by the preferences of colleges I like, which are decided by the major I pursue, which is decided by the job market and income of carreers…and none of this is within my reach.
But this, this is mine.
This is my rebellion. This is the stubborn two-year-old shouting, “no!” and relishing the power of the word. This is denying regularity because for once, I can. This is bringing a horse to water.
Every external force in my life cannot be stopped. It is a constant, a wall that I cannot alter. I cannot choose to refuse to attend school, or the school will place consequences on my transcript and my future life. I cannot choose to refuse the wishes of my parents, or they will decide consequences that will limit my freedoms even further. But if my body decides it would like to be fed, I can tell it, “no.” And then I control the consequences. I thrive in the thrill of being able to, for once, decide to refuse. And refuse, and refuse, and refuse, as much as I want, while no external force has the ability to choose the consequences for me.
This, the control over the options in my life, is mine.
This is my confidence. This is how I can look in the mirror and smile and be proud of myself. This is not having reason to pick out flaws, this is giving my body the opportunity to have none.
Any female of any age will appreciate and treasure a compliment on their appearance. Of course I'm no different. And when a friend observes that “You must be working out more, you look great”, of course it brightens my day. I love feeling my shirts loose, I love having to wear a belt with my skinny jeans, I love asking the store clerk if they have this in the next size down. I feel more confident, more radiant, than I ever had before. And no external force can take that pride from me.
This, these numbers, are all mine.
This is my challenge. This is daring myself to push my limits. And this is a reward. This is creating the feeling of success when you earn what you have.
The only way to improve is to expand out of one’s comfort zone. It’s telling myself to do those 5 extra sit-ups, even when I’m sore. It’s convincing myself that no, I don’t need those cookies, I’d rather have some metabolism-boosting green tea. It’s not giving in to every urge I have for something fatty, it’s challenging myself to improve. And then it’s the reward. It’s seeing that number go down, just enough, and knowing I deserve that because I worked for it. It’s not feeling guilty about indulging once in a while, because I know I’ve earned it. It takes each moment of my day and turns it into a competition with myself that I can win.
This victory is mine.
This confidence is mine.
This rebellion is mine.
This venomous habit, this sparkling compulsion, this drill sergeant with the grace of a nymph.
This is all mine.
I will behave and obey, and I will acquiesce to all that is theirs.
But they cannot take what is mine.
[so um...yeah.]
♪: "Supergirl" by Hilary Duff
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