I have spent most of my life being a victim. I was a victim of my father’s abuse. I was a victim of an eating disorder when I was still too young to know what that meant. I was a victim of a judgmental and toxic family. I was a victim of poverty. I was a victim of Endometriosis. I was a victim of mental health disorders that changed and morphed each time I thought I had a handle on what it meant to suffer from anxiety. I was a victim of never standing still, of always being too busy, and defining my worth in that way. I was a…