I Was ALWAYS Whole.

A few weeks ago, I watched an interview with Deante Kyle from the Grits & Eggs Podcast. He spoke about discovering who his birth mother was after his adoptive mother passed away. When asked if he wanted to build a relationship with his birth mother, he simply said, “No—because I’m already whole.”

That answer stayed with me.

Not just because it was profound—but because it made me question myself.
Am I whole? Or do I just want to feel whole?

If I’m being honest, I sat with that question for days. It lingered like a nagging gnat I couldn’t swat away.

And eventually, I came to a hard truth….I’ve always felt incomplete. Like something was missing from my life… like I was missing from my life.

As I’ve gotten older, Where I’m from being fat meant a plethora of things but it widely meant that I was somehow… less. Less desirable, less worthy, less complete.

And lately, that feeling has been louder than ever.

I’ve been feeling low in ways that are hard to explain. Like I’m not enough, but somehow still too much at the same time. And when those feelings sit with you long enough, they start to shape how you see yourself.

The Quiet Weight of Feeling “Less”

I don’t think I woke up one day and decided I wasn’t enough.

I learned it.

In the comments people made.
In the way fat bodies are talked about.
In the subtle and not-so-subtle ways I was taught to shrink—not just physically, but emotionally.

So I began to question myself.

Was I too much?
Too emotional?
Too heavy in ways people didn’t want to carry?

Somewhere in all of that, I started to believe I had to shrink parts of myself just to be kept.

And in doing that, I lost something.

I Was Missing Myself

The hardest part isn’t just my body.

It’s the way I disconnected from myself trying to make other people comfortable. Trying to be digestible. Trying not to feel like a burden.

But in the process, I lost the parts of me that were honest. The parts that felt deeply. The parts that deserved to be held, too.

And then it hit me.

It was never that I was incomplete.
It was that I had been taught to believe I was too much and not enough at the same time.

I Was Never Fucking Incomplete.

I had to remind myself:

My body does not make me less.
My emotions do not make me a burden.
My depth does not make me unworthy of being chosen.

I am not an afterthought.

Even if it has felt that way.
Even if people have made me feel that way.
Even if I’ve started to believe it.

I’m Choosing to Come Back to Myself

I won’t pretend I have it all figured out. I’m still working through these feelings.

But I’m starting to understand something I didn’t before:

I was never incomplete.

I am already whole.

Even on the days I don’t feel like I am…
I am still whole.

I hope you know that you are whole too.

With love K 🩷