Unbecoming Her

I’ve been trying to figure out where to start.

Not the version with timelines.
Not the one that tries to explain everything all at once.

Just the truth.

I know I was diagnosed with depression at 16.
I know there are names for things I’ve experienced.

But none of that feels like the beginning.

The beginning feels quieter than that.
Earlier.
Harder to explain.

It lives in moments I don’t fully remember…
but somehow still carry.

Feelings that didn’t have words yet.
Things I understand in my body before I could ever make sense of them.

I don’t have every memory laid out clearly.
What I have are fragments.
Reactions.
Patterns that followed me into places they didn’t belong.

And for a long time, I built myself around those patterns
without even realizing it.

This isn’t me telling the whole story.
Not yet.
This is just me acknowledging that it exists.
And that I’m ready to start unlearning the parts of me that were built from it.

So this is the beginning of my unbecoming.