For as long as I remember, I have never really fit in with the other kids at school. We all grew up in a low-income community, but my looks were a point of contention. As a black girl who didn't really understand how to treat her hair or feel comfortable in her skin, I made an easy target. My body and face were not the beauty standard of my town. It made me quiet and fearful of any new friends I made. The second someone moved in, I knew I would have a new friend for about a week until they would hear the jokes and decide to participate in them. Since elementary school, I learned to keep my head down and my nose in my books or plate as a coping mechanism. I gained weight and was usually the biggest kid in class, which further made me spiral. My parents weren't helping with my sense of self. They did what they could, but they would poke at my pudge and laugh, only to be upset when I got upset at their choice of words. I constantly felt alone, with nothing else to comfort me besides books, the internet, and food. Maybe then it was depression, but I was too scared to reach out from the ages of seven to eighteen. So I would lash out and didn't care if people liked me or not. I was simply here to move through grades, not make friends.
The bullying stopped in high school, but now it became gossiping and teasing. I stood up for myself much more and would fight the for justice of others, but ultimately, I just wanted it all to stop. Graduating with a 3.8 out of 4.0, I kept in touch with two of my closest high school friends that I've had since middle school. On graduation day I cried; not because I would miss anyone, but because I missed the sense of comfort and familiarity that my hometown brought me. In the back of the music room ten minutes before I had to go on, I had a panic attack. I wiped my face, smiled, and continued on as I always did. What I didn't know was that I was undiagnosed with generalized anxiety, disordered eating, and body dysmorphia.
I knew that college was my way to help others never feel the way I did. I went on to help younger generations of the community, face my fears, and join clubs with people that shared my interests. But I still felt that I couldn't shake off that old me. It all came to a head during the coronavirus pandemic. I lost my aunt and grandfather a week apart. I was drowning in work and the internship process. Any and all fun outlets for stress were closed due to covid and social distancing. Worst of all, I was in and out of a toxic relationship with a boy that I didn't even like; I just liked that he called me pretty and would drop everything just to talk to me. For once in my life, I felt truly beautiful to someone. One night in my dorm room alone I just cried for hours on end and have never felt that depressed. For days, I didn’t come out of my room. It wasn't until my two best friends from my hometown called to check up on me. I tried lying my way out of talking, but they caught on right away as I couldn't seem to catch my breath. They are the only people who have seen me during an anxiety attack, but they didn't run away. That's when I realized that all this time, I have been lucky enough to have a support system that wouldn't just up and leave. It didn't have to be how it used to be in my childhood. Because of that one talk, I tried therapy for the first time. For years, I thought looking for mental help meant that I was throwing in the towel. Therapy reminds people that they are just like everybody else and that success is gained from hard work and feeling comfortable with being uncomfortable. I aligned my majors with this kind of thinking by becoming a management and philosophy double major. I look forward to a future where I can help implement after-school programs to help with the self-confidence and mental and physical needs of students.
To this day, coming back from school for breaks to my hometown makes me extremely uncomfortable, especially as past bullies have grown and seem to have forgotten the torture they put me through. I got prettier, grew into my body shape, learned how to dress, and overall became so much more confident in myself. Still, it's not enough to feel comfortable enough in my hometown on the off chances I do come back. Any store I go to, any mall I shop at, any restaurant I dine in, all could be places where I see someone I know and I can never enjoy myself because of it. But the therapy's helped in that area. I take a deep breath and understand that even if I do see someone I know, it can't hurt me to keep it cordial.
I look back at my high school graduation photos and allow myself to reflect and feel sad for the girl I used to be in those photos. I used to call her fat, ugly, and stupid because, in reality, I was my biggest bully. I had to learn how to be kind to myself. It gets easier, but the hard part is doing it every day in order for it to become easier.