If you’re reading this, drop your shoulders from your ears, relax the muscles in your forehead, relax your jaw, and take a deep breath. I took a huge step and you can too.
Before last school year, I always looked at my life in chapters, slices of time neatly tied off when one ends and another begins. Now, those are the thoughts of who I was “Before.” Before days blended together and every struggle was deeply tied to the next. Before last year, I had experienced difficult times, but once they ended and I came out on the other side, I was able to see the purpose and what I learned from the experience. Now, everything is different.
I remember the first time I was labeled a victim. My friend, visiting from home, put her hands on my shoulders and told me “none of this is your fault, you are the victim in this.” From that point on it became part of my identity. If a guy looked at me a little too long or someone made an unexpected comment or I walked the wrong way home, I crumpled. When my favorite hobby, pastime, and sport was tainted by the unwanted actions of others, I crumpled again. When your lifelong outlet is taken away, what do you do?
I looked for anything and everything to control. What about me could I fix? Maybe if I looked differently or had been stronger or had been less noticeable it never would have happened. I hyper focused on my body and how it had failed me and continued to fail me in the form of panic attacks. I told myself if I could get stronger than I had ever been before I would finally be in control and I would never feel weak again. So, I started taking different supplements, eating up to six times a day, and spending anywhere between two to five hours in the gym daily. I did it. I got stronger than I’ve ever been. I also gained more weight in a couple of months than I had in years.
I went home for Christmas and my family panicked. They saw the changes in me and made sure I knew they thought the changes weren’t good. When I returned to school, the pendulum swung the other way. Suddenly, I hated everything that had changed and all I wanted to do was go back to before when my jeans fit a certain way. I just wanted “Before.” I gradually stopped eating. I went from breakfast, lunch, and dinner to just lunch and dinner. From just lunch and dinner to just dinner. Eventually I reached a point where I was lucky to even eat dinner when I could just have a bar after the gym. The people in my life started to notice and eventually my friend and boyfriend at the time intervened. They saw I needed help, but I didn’t. I lied to them about the help I had gotten and lied about when I was eating. Now if you know anything about me you should know that lying is a no fly zone for me. Or it had been “Before.” As the school year came to a close I did whatever I could to just hold on until I could get home. I did the bare minimum, but I made it home.
I feel like most of these letters have a happy ending. The writer reflects back on their struggles from a new place with a new perspective and is able to say “I struggled and came out on the other side.” I can’t do that. This summer I put more effort into moving forward than anything else. I focused on the things that made me happy. I spent time with my sister and reconnected with old friends. I threw myself into my summer job and started to see things in myself that I love. I had bad days, but I also had good days. As a result some things slipped, but other things got better.
Now, I have regained somewhat normal eating and am able to attend class and occasionally go out like a normal college student, but the anxiety and fear exist just as strongly as they did last year, sometimes more so. The truth is I don’t know when these feelings will get “better.” All I know is that I’m in the middle of it all right now. I’m in the middle of healing and it is a fucking painful process. But, a little bit each day, slowly, I’m getting better. Every morning that I get out of bed and don’t let the fear keep me frozen, I win in a small way. Every day, every moment is a battle. One day I will win the war.
Anonymous, Colorado College
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