A.S. Thorne

A.S. Thorne

There’s a version of me I’ve spent most of my life avoiding.
The one who looks back at me in the mirror and makes me flinch.
The one who carries extra weight, stretch marks, insecurity, softness.
The one who feels too much and not enough – at the same time.

That version? I’m still learning how to love her.

I’ve spent years trying to be someone else. Someone more polished, more worthy, more acceptable. I thought if I could just be smaller, quieter, more likable, then I’d finally be enough. Then maybe I’d finally feel…lovable.

But the truth is – I never needed to be “fixed.” I need to be seen. And more than that, I needed to stop running from myself.

My weight. My face. My softness. My awkwardness. The anxiety that sometimes makes me freeze. The depression that makes me go silent. The constant tug-of-war between trying so hard to be loved and never really believing I am.

That’s the version of me I’ve shoved into the background.
The version I criticize in photos.
The version I hide in jokes.
The version I apologize for before anyone else can say something first.

And I’m tired.

Tired of measuring myself in flaws.
Tired of believing my worth is conditional.
Tired of thinking that love has to be earned through perfection.

There’s this quote from RuPaul that always sticks with me:

“If you can’t love yourself, how the hell you gonna love anybody else?”

It’s playful, but it cuts deep.
Because I want to love people well. I want to show up with my heart wide open.
But how can I give love freely when I’m withholding it from myself?

I’m learning. Slowly.
To take selfies even when I don’t like how I look.
To wear the dress anyway.
To accept compliments without deflecting them.
To sit with the parts of me I’ve been taught to shame – and listen.

Some days I still slip.
Some days I avoid the mirror.
Some days the voice in my head says, “You’ll never be enough.”
But some days, I answer back: “That’s a lie. And I’m not listening today.”

Loving yourself doesn’t mean you feel confident all the time.
It means you show up for yourself even when you don’t.

So here I am.
Showing up for her.
For the version of me I used to hide.
For the one who’s soft, and tired, and trying anyway.

And if you’re reading this and see yourself in these words – this is your permission slip, too.

You are not too much.
You are not unlovable.
You are not a problem to fix.

You are becoming. And that is enough.
Love the version of you you’ve been avoiding.
You’ve been waiting for you.

<3 A.S. Thorne