2 weeks ago, my long time friend I met in school in England sent me a message told me he is coming to my city. I was so excited. Then I realised the last time I saw him was 19 years ago. He graduated a year before me. So that means I graduated 18 years ago. All those memories of me spending time in England came back to me. When my friend was here, we spent hours talking about what our lives like since we left school. He went to further his studies and now become a research scientist, a husband and a father to a 7 -year-old girl. I am very proud of him.

For a while, I kept thinking about how time flies, how I aged and where time has gone. Some memories seem like yesterday, some felt like a lifetime ago. 20 years of my life, how many of these days I was living a life consciously? Most felt like fast forwarded especially after I started working.

I kept a lot of pictures from the time I spent in England. My school days are not the happiest days of my life. I felt awkward and always tried to fit in but I could never be as cool as other kids in school. I was overweight, I hated my look even I tried exercise a lot and all. I left school and started working, a lot of things changed. From a slight overweight, unpopular, less than average looking girl, I became a woman, almost always the centre of attraction wherever I go, turn heads almost whenever I walked into the room.

But deep down in my heart, I always resented some part of me. I didn’t want to recognise the person I used to be as a child. I didn’t want people that I know now to see how I used to be. I was afraid if they see how I used to be, they will see me differently and will not love me that much. I secretly ashamed of my past. I didn’t know what I was feeling. One day I was cleaning my room and found lots of pictures of my childhood. I burned them all. I thought that’s me releasing my past. When I went to bed that night, I suddenly recognised my action of destroying all the pictures of my past isn’t releasing my past, it is denying that part of my life, that part of my life.

I saw I was broken there and it will not mend if I do not accept it as part of my life, part of me. From then on, I am never ashamed to tell people how I used to be when I was growing up. I started to realised how powerful my story of transformation is and I become proud of my past and people who know my past love me more. My stories had inspired some people around me and had made them believe that beauty is coming from within.

I am grateful I become the person I am today. My past doesn’t define me, it made me. But I do not want to carry my past with me because that would be too heavy to move forward. I know I do carry some of my past with me. So I try to always remind myself not to judge myself or others by my past because we do not live there anymore.








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