You have control, she said. 

Of most things, he said. 

Control of one thing, I said.

The body, we said. 

There isn’t nearly enough autonomy to go around. Those who have it, cherish it. Everyone else, keep searching. Like a needle in a haystack. A diamond in the rough. The gold bits in coal. It’s there, somewhere. 
This isn’t to say that I’ve managed to establish all-encompassing autonomy. No. 
This is to say that it has taken me years coupled with travesties for me to claim certain things as my own. 

I decide who indulges in my body. 

I decide where my love goes. 

I decide where my passions reside.

I decide which shitty job is best for the moment. 

I decide for myself. And even if the decisions aren’t the greatest, at least I claimed it. 

Autonomy, for me, has come in the form is simple yes’s and no’s. When before I struggled to reveal my voice, now there’s no fear left. Because there’s nothing to lose and everything to gain. 
Take control, even if it’s as simple as choosing what to eat. At the bare minimum, it’s a step in your direction! 



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