By Tilly James
We’ve heard the stories; big break up, tears and pain, followed by an excruciatingly timed “memories” notification from your phone. The “memories”? An album of you and the aforementioned big break up, in all your happiest moments. Brutal.
A coincidence? A sign? Some slightly twisted guy in the cloud with time to kill? We will never know.
Essentially, the devil works hard, but Apple photos work harder.
I seem to be no exception. My phone just chimed “5 years ago today!”
So, lying in my bed, with perhaps a bit of morbid curiosity, I couldn’t help but click. It did not disappoint:
Ok, so not an album of loved up youths before it all went crashing down. Still, pretty brilliantly brutal though.
The poignancy, you see, is that this is the photo I took when I broke down for the very first time over my skin. When I looked at myself and begged something, somewhere, to stop what was happening to me, please.
It’s been a vicious cycle, and I’ve tried it all. Well, not all (all would be bathing in my own wee which is what a woman in the gym recommended to me, unprompted).
That’s the other thing, 5 years of unwanted advice. Of “try this, have you seen that, drink water, don’t have baths.”
But also, 5 years of incredible friends. Of champions and lessons. Of people having my back, and boosting me up. Turning the light back on. My mum, my brothers, my sisters, my family. My friends. Random people I’ve connected with; in yoga, on the street, in an audition, on the tube. Those knowing looks exchanged between allies, secret members of the club that many join but few remain in. All these people, keeping me going. Reminding me who I am, despite it all. Who I am, because of it all.
And myself. 5 years of pep talks in the mirror. A girl and then a woman on this journey. In a world where beauty is currency, and vanity is disguised as an app called TikTok.
I’ve challenged people, I’ve been bold and said, ‘why does this make me less?’ And for the most part, people say it doesn’t and they mean that. But some don’t. Some say hurtful things. Some see my strength (because that is what I now know it to be) as a weakness. And they go for it. They try to ruin me. They ask me what’s wrong with my face. They scream at me, ‘you are ugly, you are ruined, nobody wants you!’
I would be lying if I said it didn’t rattle me. Boy, does it. But, I remember what I would say if it was anyone else. I would say fuck them. To their core. I would say they don’t know me, they are small people with cold hearts and narrow minds. Keep going! I would say. Things will get better. Most importantly, remember that the world is BIGGER than this. You must add that pain to your armoury. Let it fuel you.
I am aware that this thing that affects me is so small in the grand scheme. It is a drop in the ocean in a world that is burning and on its head, where we are going backwards and we are at war.
And so I write this not for a poor me. But for a way to be seen.
More importantly. I write this as a way to see you, whoever you may be.
I write this to show it all; the big, the bad and the angry. I am not less for a superficial “impurity”. And neither are you. For whatever it may be, whichever “impurity” it is that haunts you. You are not it, you are everything and more.
And so, for the love of good writing and excellent TV, I IMPLORE you to see more. I write this, to ask you. I ask you to see more than what someone could be. See them for what they are, right now, in front of you. See you, for you are. Right now. That unfiltered person, there. THAT is beauty. THAT is exactly how it should be.