A Little Bit of Honesty

When I was 9, my mom told me that my tummy was poking out a little bit.

It was an innocent comment, made out of love. She just wanted me to eat in moderation.

She was just being a mother.

But something in my brain chemistry made me susceptible to taking that comment the wrong way.

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When I was 11, I stopped letting people lift me off the ground because I was worried that I would be too heavy and they would drop me.

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When I was 13, I decided that I hated peanuts because they were the most fattening nut.

That was also the year I started pinching the fat on my tummy so that I could tell if there was more than usual.

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Then, when I was 14 I stopped eating the Nutter Butters packed in my lunch because they had too much fat in them.

And threw away fruit because it was just too much effort to try to eat it.

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When I was 15, I cried on my bathroom floor because I gained 4 pounds.

I convinced myself that I wasn’t hungry, and distracted myself with crafts until I couldn’t help but eat anything in sight.

But only at night when my family couldn’t see.

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When I was 15, I figured out that throwing up was easy.

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When I was 16, I couldn’t stop worrying about how my stomach looked in an outfit. It was literally the only thing I could think about, all day, every day.

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When I was 16, I watched To The Bone every week trying to convince myself to be fine again.

But my clothes kept tightening, and I didn’t know what to do.

I felt like I couldn’t stop, or else I would spiral out of control.

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When I was 17, I tried to get better.

I went to therapy.

I tried to stay off social media.

I slept 8 hours every night.

I exercised.

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No matter what I did, the thoughts wouldn’t go away.

And no matter how hard I cried, I always ended up leaning over the toilet bowl.

I gave up for a while.

Until I turned 18.

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When I turned 18, I made a pact to myself that I would get better before college.

It’s been really hard, because when you just don’t feel good about yourself it’s hard to try to get help.

So there have been windows of joy,

And tunnels of hopelessness.

But this summer I went on a trip where I lived with 20 other kids for two weeks.

I decided that I was going to eat normally and try to think well about myself for the entire trip.

It has been two months since I made that decision,

and I am the most okay with my body that I have been in many, many years.

I’m not saying that I’m always doing great.

But I do know how to cope with my emotions in healthy ways now, and I know that hating myself is the worst poison out there.

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When my siblings were in high school, they took creative writing and made blogs. I couldn’t wait until I had a space that I could let out my thoughts. But then I had that chance, and I was too worried about what my peers would think.

I guess this is me just trying to say that nobody is perfect. Every single person in this world has something they are hiding.

Stadium of fire with my mom, and my sister who flew in from New York!!

“Pregnancy photo shoot”

Lake Powell!! And the first time I got to see one of my friends in months because she moved there.

This song feels like a parent, a hug, and a prayer all at the same time.