Why can’t you completely accept yourself as you are? What is stopping you from loving yourself? I feel as though it’s hard for someone to completely accept their self as they are because they’re use to being told how they should look, being on social media, and looking at images of certain people. What is stopping someone from loving their self is when they point out the things they don’t like about themselves, and can’t seem to take their mind completely off of it. Though, at the end of the day I feel that you shouldn’t be beautiful for anybody else but yourself.
“Why can’t you completely accept yourself as you are?” There were people of all ages that would find it better to wear makeup and get plastic surgery, but there is a disagreement that it shouldn’t be needed to make someone feel better about themselves because even if they decide to make those changes, their problems won’t because they’ll always be there. There was plenty of deep research on reasons why plastic surgery was good, why it was bad, reasons why makeup was good, and why it was bad. Though, we are leaning more towards why it is bad because we are focused on why can’t others completely accept themselves as they are without relying on plastic surgery and makeup.
I came across this website that spoke about reasons why women would get plastic surgery. “Some want to look younger”(WebMD) it’s very true that most girls and women want to look younger because when we all start to get old. We feel as though there is no hope in finding someone for ourselves, when in fact there is someone out there for us. It has to be the person that is the most accepting of you. Another statement was “Cosmetic surgery won’t change your life. It won’t solve personal problems or make you look like someone else,”(WebMD). It’s very true that it won’t solve your problems because others will still view you the same way because it doesn’t matter how you look. It’s the personality that sticks out the most. Though, it is very silly to believe that personality actually matters, it’s true because sometimes looks don’t last or change as much as a person’s personality.
There was a website that spoke about the issues and finances of plastic surgery and in the article it states that, ”Many people struggle with confidence issues because of their  appearance,”(Occupy theory). Many people can’t completely accept themselves as they are so they start to lack confidence, compare themselves to others, put themselves down, and they don’t believe that they are actually as beautiful as people tell them they are. Another statement that was made was, “Plastic surgery is one of the highest costs for surgery there is,”(Occupy theory). There shouldn’t be any reason why women should waste their money on getting plastic surgery because it just isn’t worth it especially if it’ll all be for the wrong reasons.
There were reasons why women would wear makeup, and what stuck out the most is when it stated, “It’s a way to be expressive,”(Mathews 4). It’s very true that most girls and women want to be more expressive with the type of makeup that they wear because it shows a different but creative side to them. Another statement that stuck out the most is when it stated, “Do not wear it because you think you’re at an age where it’s necessary to start wearing it. Wear it because you want to,” (Mathews 4). Everything that a person does in their life is because they want to do it when it is right for them, not when someone tell them when to start wearing it.
There were pros and cons of make up and in the article it stated, “wearing makeup everyday can cause serious skin problems,”(Warjri 4). No girl should really feel the need to wear makeup everyday because they need to let their skin breathe because there isn’t a problem with just being natural. It’s better to start embracing your skin and being completely natural instead of being afraid. Another statement that was being made was, “A layer of makeup on the skin clogs the pores and prevents skin from breathing,”(Warjri 4). Wondering why you still get pimples? Well, wearing makeup everyday is what is causing that to happen. So, trying to wear makeup trying to cover up the pimples isn’t going to solve much.
A book called, “The Gifts of Imperfection”, connects in some way to my why question which is why it stuck out a lot. As I was reading the book, the part that stuck out is when it stated, “The better we are at accepting ourselves and others, the more compassionate we become. Well, it’s difficult to accept people when they are hurting us or taking advantage of us or walking all over us,”(Brown pg 17). It’s important to accept ourselves and others as they are because in reality nobody is perfect. That’s why no girl or women should be obligated to wear makeup just so they can be seen as “beautiful” by other people. Another statement that stuck out the most to me was, “What does it take to live and love from a place of worthiness? How do we embrace imperfection? How do we cultivate what we need and let go of the things that are holding us back? The answers to all of these questions are courage, compassion, and connection—the tools we need to work our way through our journey,”(Brown pg 1). This stuck out the most to me because compassion and connection are very important and that’s what should matter the most. Not how you look.
The solution is that everyone should test themselves and try their best to last at least a few weeks without using products to make themselves feel “beautiful” or to make themselves feel better, and they’ll start to realize that it’s better getting up in the morning not having to worry about putting certain things on to make them feel better about themselves.

This one is for the doctor who called me “delicate”
I think I missed that word in the thick textbooks about disease I’ve seen
This is for the lab technician who lost not one but two vials of my blood
Because I really wanted to help that new nurse figure out veins again.
This is for the stupid slogans on the walls
A fichus with the word peace under it, I'm cured.
This is for the geriatric room with the low table they always put me in
An arthritis patient means elderly woman, right?
This is for the negative tests and endless questionnaires about my health
Checking how often, how severe, and how much I care.
This is for the four empty orange prescription bottles sitting neatly on my desk
Red pills, and yellow pills, and white ones, oh my!
This is for the loud groan of pain in the morning I make before I even wake
Because why shouldn’t my roommate wake up when I do?
This is for the symphony of my cracking joints and creaking bones
Because violently trembling when you walk up stairs is so very ****.
This is for the manic googling at 4 AM,
Does this symptom mean anything? Is it just a quirk or side affect?
This is for WebMd, bless their hearts,
Who think that sniffles mean polyps and headaches mean cancer.
This is for the flights upon flights of stairs I climb each day,
Cats are considered ****, is panting like a dog?
This is for the cramping and shaking hands everyday
Because as a writer and artist I never even use them right?
This is for my mother
Who’s waited patiently with me through every doctor’s visit
This is for my best friend Lauren
Who missed three classes to take me to a clinic
This is for my nephew
Who is too big for me to pick up without grimacing now
This is for the wine I drank
And the bedroom basement I climb out of
And the backpack I heave around
And the school lunches I leave in toilets
It’s for the nights I have to stay in and the ones where I make myself leave
Because the only thing tough enough to stop me
Is me.
And I’ll tip my hat to myself for putting up such a good challenge.
It’ll just make it even more satisfying when I knock it the **** down.

My body is doing frightening things
And I am not scared enough yet to fix them.
When I was little my parents called it baby ****
Because it is little and gross and irritating,
Much like a baby,
I think.
But then, it was rare when I was little,
And far less rare now,
Seeing as for the past two weeks
I have baby barfed at least eight times a day,
Often on the sidewalk,
Often the food I had just finished eating.
It is gross.
I should probably call a doctor,
Because my mango smoothie tasted much better
When I wasn’t spitting it up
Into an empty coffee cup in my art history class.
But instead of calling a doctor I wretch and shrug,
As though that is helping.
WebMD isn’t much help when it comes to frequent baby ****,
Either.

In the thrilling saga that is
My Neurosis
I have finally decided to
Seek help -
Popping prozac,
Coupled with telling a
Kind woman
About my three hour WebMD purge sessions
And
My deep fear of speaking out loud
For about
Fifty minutes a week.

The next chapter will be titled
"Support Groups: Sitting In a Circle With Strangers As We Compare Our Obessive Spirals on Fears of Death, Fears of Living, and Fixations With Folding Laundry."

Every year about 800 000 people lose the constant war they have with themself. A stranger to you, someone who meant nothing, but that someone once was somebody else's everything.

Our mental illnesses and disorders have been so overly glorified and romanticized in today’s media, music, and social media. It has become desirable and trendy, and it’s making me sick.
Our problems weren’t discovered, closely studied, monitored, and used to give us an answer to the questions why, when, and how, just for some teens to use it as a way to evoke shame and make fun of someone.
There are over 171, 476 words used in the English language, 10,000 adjectives, 2,123 adverbs, 46 conjunctions, 77 interjections, 17,450 nouns, 26 particles, 39 prepositions, 17 pronouns, and 5,986 verbs. I bet there are a bunch of other adjectives to call your friend when they “go crazy”.
So please stop using our chemical imbalances and the result of years of traumas because you need to feel unique.

No, we aren’t okay with you using our pain and struggles as a way for you to feel edgy and special.
“I Am NoT lIkE oThEr GiRlS” No, you are lying to yourself and
others by faking and exaggerating your anxiety and your depression because it’s “SO ROMANTIC WHEN A BOY SAVES YOU”.

But truth be told;
Kissing your partner's scars isn’t adorable.
Saving someone from a suicide attempt doesn’t make you a brave hero.
Anxiety disorders don’t transform you into a poor struggling soul needing someone to save you.
Depression never turned me into a misunderstood beautiful flower, someone who’s fragile and needs protection.
Bipolar disorder is so extremely much more than “just mood swings”;
When I have a manic episode it doesn’t mean I am suddenly super productive.
Dealing with Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) is not “so cool or so crazy” it’s best explained as living in an unpredictable nightmare, but you can not wake up.
Being paranoid is not cool, you are in a constant fight or flight mode, and you are thinking something bad will happen any second.
Having Anorexia is not the same thing as just skipping breakfast one morning.
Attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD) is not a “gift or superpower” you suddenly wanted to give to yourself with no right to do so.
Having social anxiety is not quirky, it’s debilitating.
Succeeding or failing a Suicide attempt won’t make all of your bullies suddenly stop being bullies and make them feel guilty.
Obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD) is not the same as liking it when things are organized.
Bulimia is not a diagnosis you should aspire to get, you won’t turn into a beautiful thin person, you will turn into a dying mentally unstable wreck.
Being diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) doesn’t equal not knowing how to make friends and enjoying being alone.
No, You don’t have Tourette Syndrome (TS), I have never heard of a TS type where you only have trouble with “vocal tics” when someone is not doing what you ask them to. You simply just lack manners and have no idea how to read a room, your parents failed to turn you into a decent human being and you just don’t feel like working on it.
Insomnia is a lot more than staying up 1 out of 7 days a week because you “did not feel tired and was too bored to stay in bed”.
Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome (PTSD) is not ******* easy to live with and doesn’t mean you are weak.
My daddy issues are not **** or make me a freak in bed.                          
Schizophrenia and other psychotic disorders are not “Only hearing and seeing things”.
Antisocial Personality Disorder (ASPD) doesn’t mean someone is coldhearted and evil.
Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) is not the same as having different personalities with different friend groups.
Addicts are not weak, dumb, or “only have themself to blame.”
Being burned out doesn’t equal you thinking school or work is boring.

To even get evaluated we often have to fight for years until we find a psychiatrist who takes us seriously. Some of us find ourselves dumbfounded by the answers to the questions we have had to deal with for years and stuff we thought everyone dealt with.
Others are not that lucky and have to do most of the work themself, they find out what is wrong after thoroughly reading every article on PubMed, MedScape, and WebMD they can find. Because, honestly, psychiatrists do **** sometimes.

Society has been fetishizing our mental illnesses and disorders for way too long.
You see my crazy as **** and desired until my crazy pops up out of thin air and ends with wounds, blood, traumas, antipsychotics, and paramedics.
We get belittled, invalidated, and have our symptoms dulled down because people get off to them.
I am not your manic pixie dream girl or your Harley Quinn.
If the “type” of people you get attracted to is mentally unstable girls with daddy issues, a chemical imbalance, and a lack of impulse control, you are a part of the problem.

Also, Meghan Markle won’t see the embarrassing Facebook posts you write about how you don't believe she was “really suicidal and only wanted attention”, but your suicidal friends will.

You know who’s not laughing at your jokes about how people who died or were lucky enough to survive their suicide attempt are weak and how they “took the easy way out”? Your best friend who’s barely holding on, or maybe it’s your little sister tempted by the bottle of pills in her hand, or maybe, just maybe, it’s your lover who locked themself in the bathroom and is currently gasping for air on the cold tile floor because they would rather go through their panic attack completely alone than having to ask for your help. Is your joke still funny?

We are asked: “have you ever considered how your mental illness makes ME feel? How much you are hurting me?
And yes we have. We worry about that every single day of our life. And every single hour we spend awake we are overwhelmed with the feeling that our loved ones would be so much better off if we just died, but thank you, from the bottom of our hearts for your contribution. There is nothing we love more than being reminded of how much of a burden we are.

I swear we aren’t monsters. The friends I have who are dealing with mental illnesses are some of the kindest, most selfless, and caring people I have ever had the fortune to meet. We have nothing in common except for our serotonin deficiency and we bond through our traumas.
We try our hardest to heal other broken people because we know what rock bottom feels like.
We calm them down and distract them from the breathtaking panic attacks and overpowering suicidal thoughts visiting them at 3 am, because we all know way too well how easy it is to slip in and out of your head, and how it feels to lose touch with reality.
We stay up throughout the night to keep each other safe and breathing because deep down we are all just a bunch of suicidal kids telling other suicidal kids that suicide isn’t the answer.
We check-in and remind each other to eat, take our meds and stay hydrated.
We repeatedly prove the voices in our friends' heads wrong, while we listen blindly to our own demons believing every cruel and damaging lie they feed us.
We are lost kids looking for someone to call our own and somewhere to call home.
We were all raised being told by either our mom or dad or some other adult to not talk to strangers online, because they are dangerous, and they would ruin our lives.
But my mom and dad couldn’t have been more wrong, because when I met strangers online, I didn’t find danger, I found a family.
I have felt love stronger than anything you will ever experience in your life.
We love like we have nothing to lose because we truly have nothing to lose.
We have each other’s backs and we proved that family doesn’t have to be blood.
I am forever grateful towards the ones who stuck around, and to the new ones that life brought to me. The ones who have seen me relapse probably a thousand times but never lost hope, and the ones who were never meant to stay forever. I will always have you back.

What I am trying to tell you with all of this is that we are all fighting for dear life to survive, some of us are so close to falling off the deep end all they need is one small event to tip over, and then we have those who lost their battle, who are gone but never forgotten, taken from us along the road to the place we are today, those the sickness quickly and carelessly took from us, and at the same time robbed the world of the most beautiful people we have ever met.
The world wasn’t ready for you yet,
Alexa

i dont live anymore
i mean, god, i don't know
i'm alive as far as science is concerned
and don't even get me started on what the gods think
what's living to an immortal anyway?
so, i'm technically alive,
but on anxious 3 ams my symptoms point to husk
and i spend a lot of time on webMD when i can't sleep
rest is for the righteous and living
and there is a sickness in me i fear to name

Im sitting here reading some WebMD article about coping with dying. Literally every step is something I am fully capable of doing, until it came to  “Letting people in”. I always knew this is something I should start doing, but it seems like such a foreign concept. I have NEVER been able to let people in. I only let them think im close enough to reach out to when in reality I play it so close to my chest its basically tattooed on. Letting people in, especially now, seems like such a bad idea to me. Why would I open up now just so people can watch me die? When I first found out I didnt plan on telling anyone. Not until the funeral.

But I realized something. “Letting people in” is not a step for me to accept. Its a step for other people. A step for them to accept that I wont be there to grow old, I wont be there for the early bird special, I wont be there for my future nieces and nephews. This step is to allow others to accept dying. All I can do is try my best to let them in. Even if it is only a little at a time. I owe my friends and family that. So I promise, I will do my absolute best to let people in, to answer any and every questions they may have.