I had lost 10 pounds in three weeks. My face, once round and plump, was becoming angular, my jaw becoming more defined. My arms and legs full of the muscle I worked so hard for in dance class, looked weak.  Plates of pasta, rice, and other assortments of food left untouched in my room. Suddenly, I was investing most of my spare money into belts. Black. Purple. Red. Yellow. It gave my mostly drab attire of jeans, oversized sweaters, and plain-t shirts some color. Patches of hair were scattered all over my bedroom, leaving a trail around my bed. Days were spent in stupor. The mattress had memorised the shape of my body. I wanted to sleep but I could not. Then I slept too much. A math assignment that would usually take an hour, would take five. Why was this happening to me? Who was I? Who was this girl? 

My mirror was a cruel piece of glass. It never lied. It always gave me the answer I didn’t want to hear, but I still heard anyways. People think that a mirror is only telling on the physical appearance. Strangely, mine could show me my internal deterioration too. I could see how rough I looked and it replicated how bad I was doing mentally. It was something I couldn’t escape. It hung on the door, taunting me to look at it to see what I had become. I became afraid of looking at it. I knew the truth would hurt. I left the room always confused about what I felt. Looking back I know it was guilt. Something just was not sitting right in my spirit, I think I knew it was my fault that I had allowed it to get this bad.

Outside of my room, I was a different girl. Making people laugh was one of my many talents. Most people consider me funny. Humor was a coping mechanism. It’s probably why I did it so well. Maybe that’s why no one assumed anything. I could always be the listener. The girl who slid in a sly joke. I could hold secrets. I would ruminate on them, while I climbed on the  track team bus, amping my teammates up for a meet. Running the last leg on a 4×100 was my signature race. I was competitive. My phone was always playing my “hype” playlist before I ran. The lyrics from A Boogie, Comethazine, and Travis Scott kept my mind from racing, while I waited for my feet to do the same. The adrenaline before a race kept me grounded, but there was another feeling always lingering beneath the surface. I felt like a balloon floating in the sky at times. I had a bird’s eye view, so I was able to “see” everything, but I couldn’t see. My happiness was the balloon. The balloon can only float for so long before it deflates and gradually falls to the floor. I was a balloon that would be inflated and then popped before it ever got the chance to see how big it could get.There were times were my balloon would float for several days.Every time I was allowed to be happy it was temporary. Strangely, I became accustomed to the feeling of temporary. I felt like the emptiness on the inside of a balloon. Moving through time and space but I was not allowed to do anything but watch. The strange part about this feeling… this aura around me, was that it was there for so long I was no longer conscious of it. All I wanted was for it to go away… but I had accepted its presence. My first mistake.

The power of the mind is not to be underestimated. It can be your best friend or your worst critic. I allowed it to be my enemy. One internal flaw I was faced with was jealousy. There was a constant feeling of dissatisfaction with anything I would do. At first, I dismissed the feeling and decided it was ambition. Striving to be better wasn’t a crime, and I certainly knew I could always improve. I could set goals and accomplish them, but I would never feel the thrill that would usually come with the accomplishment. There were other people who were “just like me” doing great things- I felt inadequate. Social comparisons became a part of my everyday life. I started to compare my looks, grades, popularity, and even athletic ability. Social media worsened the habit. It became easy to get sucked into a world of fantasy on apps such as Snapchat and Instagram. I would scroll for hours envious of girls who were my age lives. The comparison decreased my self esteem. It decreased my self-confidence. It lead to a decrease in the quality of my life. I felt angry. Overanalyzing myself became a routine. It became obvious that my habits and mannerisms needed to change. How would I start changing myself? Would I be a different person? 

About two months later, I was once again on Instagram, looking through my feed. I stumbled across a post that held the quote “Comparison is the thief of joy”. This post woke me up. It felt like the post was yelling at me. I knew I had to start to change something. One of my friends had started a “social media cleanse” and I knew that was the first step I had to take. I asked her how difficult it was to start the cleanse. She explained to me that I would feel urges, but resisting those urges the hardest part but the most rewarding. She encouraged to start by deleting all apps that I considered social media.  So I did.Instagram? Gone. Snapchat? Gone. Twitter? Gone. Gradually I noticed that I became more productive. Suddenly, I had more free time. The time it took to complete my math homework went from five hours to three. I started to understand why I felt so alone for two years. I felt misunderstood. It was painful. I had isolated myself because I was so self conscious of how I would come across to people. People reached out to me, but I pushed them away afraid of judgement and scrutiny. I lost some friends in this time period, because I was not investing time into these relationships. Friends came and went, because they became frustrated with my lack of communication. I wasn’t talking about what I was going through. No one was like me, I thought, so why would anyone understand what I was going through? Turns out, talking was the best thing I could do. My friends were receptive to my experience and offered me advice. They encouraged me to keep talking to them, and we ended up starting “Tuesday Tradition”. We would stay after school every Tuesday to talk, eat and just laugh. I would look forward to Tuesday’s because it became a time to air out my problems, achievements, and frustrations. I began to have self-love again. I gained weight, my eating schedule became regular, and started getting rid of my belts. There was no need for them anymore. 

I’m still on the road to recovery. There are times where I still feel misunderstood. And alone.I counteract those emotions writing how I feel, and listening to music that makes me feel confident. I developed a closer relationship with God. I can pray for strength or guidance if needed.  I’ve learned from my mistakes. I’m not perfect by any means, but it has become easier for me to reach out for support when I need it when I feel myself slipping back into my old habits.

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