One Hundred Sleepless Nights

If I could turn back time I would change the relationship between my mother and I. I would remove the memories burnt into my brain of all the times she told me I am worthless, and that she wishes I was never born. She taught me that abuse is love, and no one ever taught me different. From boyfriends to best friends I took their criticisms as compliments and fighting as friendship. Of course I wanted to love myself too, so just as her awful words were hugs, my blades gave me kisses. They became my only comfort, the only thing that would put me to sleep at night when her voice haunted me. Soon, the voices carried into the day, and every time I would look in the mirror I could hear her voice say "You will never be good enough." As I began to pick out my flaws, a day without eating became a pat on the back. I shut everyone else out, they could never love me ask much as I loved myself. The proof was in the beautiful red lines racing up my arms and thighs, and the constantly dropping number on the scale. My self 'love' was more like a machine stuck on self destruct. With fresh cuts and days without eating, I was pushing for perfection. The worst part was that I thought it was 'normal', and with a perfect plastic smile always plastered on my face no one ever thought any different. I continued to prove my love for everyone else by pushing them away, as I built up my walls, but soon that was not enough. I needed more. Little ideas began to pop into my mind, ways that I could love myself even more.

I do not have any pictures
of my mom so here is me.

 I would make plans to end it all and write notes to say goodbye. I was so ready to prove my 'love' to myself that when help finally came I felt more like I was being harmed. It has been a long journey, but I am starting to recover. I can not help but to point out my flaws, and my moms voice still screams to me at night, though I haven't talked to her in over a year. She taught me that abuse is love, but it is not, and now I am trying to learn the difference. I am finally learning how to really love myself. The scars have faded, but what if they were never there? I know the grass is not always greener on the other side, and after every thing,
 I am very happy with who I have become. However, I am always left wondering 'What if she had loved me', or better yet 'what if I knew how to loved myself'.Maybe I would not be so shy, and my words would not come out so harsh. Maybe I would not be so insecure, and I would not worry so much about what people think about me. I would be able to look at myself and be content with what I see. I never would have made those stupid things, and I would not still be struggling with them today because I never would have felt that alone. She would be there for me when I am upset, and she would give me that 'stupid' motherly advice. She would hold me in her arms and tell me "It will be okay" and "You are perfect just the way you are". Maybe we could have been a happy family, and maybe I could have been a happy girl, a girl without scars. However, I can not turn back time, and I will never truly know what could have been. Instead, I must learn from my mistakes and the mistakes my mother made, and change my life for the better.