I used to hide behind things — behind tight clothes, behind a perfectly styled face, behind the idea that being seen was the same as being accepted.
But I wasn’t okay.
Not really.
I smiled, I posed, I played the part — but there were days I couldn’t even look in the mirror without feeling like a stranger was staring back at me.
I thought validation would fix me. I thought if I looked “enough,” I’d feel enough.
But healing doesn’t come from attention.
It comes in quiet moments.
It comes from choosing yourself — not the version people want, but the real, raw, still-in-progress you.
One day I just… stopped trying to be “her.”
I took a breath. I let go. I cried — hard.
And then I started over.
Not with surgery or selfies or more filters.
With self-respect. With peace. With patience.
The transformation didn’t happen overnight, and it wasn’t all glamorous. But it was real.
Now, when I look in the mirror, I see someone I’m proud of — not because she’s perfect, but because she’s honest.
This is the “after” that matters.
The one where I finally feel free.
