Writing by Lila Fox // Photograph by Pi Rawinad // I was never too much, too sensitive, too loud, too dramatic. The whole of me is enough and it always was.
Writing by Lila Fox // Photograph by Pi Rawinad
The sun shines down on my skin and I look into the big expanse of blue sky.
Birds are chirping and flying overhead.
I think about the transitory nature of life and it makes me want to cry.
No moment like the next.
I know I am worthy of love, accepting of myself as a whole person.
I was never too much, too sensitive, too loud, too dramatic. The whole of me is enough and it always was.
Before I was told from the culture that my body was not my own. My curvy body, with stretch marks from my fluctuating weight, a scar from a screw going into my leg when I was a teenager and hair along my face. My dyed blonde hair, which has never been natural since I was 15.
My legs, which have run, have danced, have walked a long way and my big feet which help me swim. Something I love to do, something that feels second nature to me.
The moles on my body, from spending countless summers on the sunshine coast with my family.
My heart which has loved so many people, and animals. My heart which was open and became closed and closes and opens constantly.
My heart which is strong and will continue becoming stronger, even with the murmur I discovered when I was 26 years old.
I’m nearly 29 and I am nowhere near where I thought I would be. It’s wildly different than what I imagined. I wouldn’t say I am at home yet, but I am getting there.
I am learning about love alongside my beautiful partner. How to love someone else wholly and also how to love myself. The journey continues, one step at a time.
