wolfie submissions
On Saturdays at the farmer’s market, I look at the bridge, the boats, the colorful stands, and everyone is happy to be there. I’m connected to the land and connected to the people. I see the world through that bubbly lens that only a Saturday morning in spring can provide, and I see how I fit into it. I fuel myself with fruit and hummus and good conversation. By falling in love with the world again, I fall in love with myself. - KYLEIGH MCPHILLIPS / SAN FRANCISCO, CA
NAIMAH SMITH / NEW YORK, NY Practicing self-love is an ongoing pursuit for most people, but those trying to recover from an eating disorder in particular know just how painful it can be. My disorder emerged during a time when fear swelled within me and panic sat in my chest like a heavy rock, and it disguised itself as my saving grace. Comfort and control were slipping through my fingers (or so I thought), and the disordered behaviours promised me that I could keep things in check. Each shrunken meal felt like a pat on the back and I endorsed my habits in the name of “health and fitness”. Every glass surface turned into a distorted lens through which I saw myself, as if I was looking at my reflection through the warped surface of a funhouse mirror. It was like my brain existed separately from my body, which had simply become a string of body parts under my endless scrutiny. It
wasn’t until I returned home that I saw the way my skin had dulled and my eyes sunk low. I caught the quiet glances between family members when they saw my clothes hanging loose, and I would retreat to my bedroom as an effort to escape from the ED voice that always made sure it was the loudest. For someone who so desperately needed control, I had completely spiraled out of it and lost touch with everything I knew and loved. My friends and family noted that the spark in me was gone, and I realized that they didn’t deserve to live with this shell of the person I’d become. I was ill, and I wanted to give them a version of me that was alight again. Beginning the first steps of recovery has helped me understand that self-love is identifying and nurturing the parts of you that are hurting. Selflove, at the very least, is knowing that you deserve much more than to suffer in a world of self-sabotage. As I embark on the uncomfortable path of eating disorder recovery, I dream of a day where there is no disconnect between my mind and my body, and that I can find peace existing as is. Simply finding peace within myself, in whatever form I take; isn’t that selflove? - LAUREN SPEIGHT / OTTAWA, ONTARIO Self-love and I have a complicated relationship, we always have. Throughout the years, we’ve had our good moments, full of laughter and security. But, we’ve also had our bad days, full of resentment and anger. As it is with any relationship, even one with yourself, these things happen. You will have your ups and downs, your highs and lows, and fleeting moments of consistency. The question is: how do we overcome these challenges and get back to Contentment? You have to remember that you are your best lover, and you should treat yourself as such. I talk to myself about how I’m feeling, discuss what I can do to be kinder to myself. I make time for me, to remind myself that I am beautiful and valued. I take myself out for that movie that I’ve been dying to see, or out shopping because I’ve been working hard at my job and deserve to treat myself. I buy myself a new book once a week from my favorite bookstore and take myself out for coffee because I know that these little things will make me happy. But, most importantly, I write. When I can’t find my voice, my words speak for me, and they say more than my mouth ever could. Once, I wrote a poem called “Dear Body”, and it exuded more self love than lips or tongue could ever whisper. I am my best lover, and I treat myself as such. Self-love and I have been in a relationship for eighteen years. We may not be perfect, as nobody is, but we are growing happier with each passing day. And in each day, I am finding a new reason to fall in love with myself even more. - AMARYS DEAN / GEORGETOWN, MD
local wolves — 31
