If you are reading this, it does get easier…
Growing up, I was genuinely happy as a kid, however, that took a turn as I aged. I couldn’t grasp the concept of death as a kid. I did not understand the meaning of life if we are all going to end up in a box below the surface. In second grade, I cried consistently after school knowing that my favorite person in the world might leave me. As an 8-year-old, I wasn’t ready. If I am being completely honest, I am still not ready nor will I ever be. My parents thought I had a heart problem, because I convinced them and myself that something was wrong with my heart physically.
The root cause of that “feeling” is difficult to characterize with one word. It is a sense of hopelessness and loneliness that dragged on. With that, I spiraled into a web of depression and anxiety. Mental disorders do not just disappear into thin air. With this case, it was never resolved, but I felt like a burden to my parents. I had to accept the matter and move on. The feeling never went away.
Through all that, it led to my next demon… academic validation. My parents never got their diploma, never had the opportunities I have had. They are my role models, so I never wanted to disappoint them. With the countless numbers of schooling, I started to like the feeling of doing well on a test. I started to set expectations for myself. People started to notice, and I was defined as the smart girl in school. With that, my expectations became higher. Every time I do well, that level of expectation is raised further up. It was the feeling that you can measure yourself by the numbers you achieve on an assignment. Everything started to scale up, I started to perfect everything I do. I had to be perfect.
That’s when I discovered my body dysmorphia. The number on the scale mattered so much. At one point, I didn’t eat for days. I was telling myself that I would be content as long as I reached that number. By the end of high school, nothing was perfect enough for me. My expectations increased exponentially.
In college, I started to learn that perfection never existed. Everyone is flawed. However, the feeling still sits in the back of my mind. Everyday is a mystery, I never know how I am going to feel the next day. I am writing this not saying the battle is over, but it gets easier. There is a point to all of it. You are not alone.
Anonymous, Clemson University ‘23
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