“What happened to your eyes? What’s wrong with your hair? You look weird!” These were remarks I got from my family and classmates back in middle school. When I was in 6th grade, I was already struggling with severe anxieties and depression, and I was only 10 years old. I didn’t even know those words existed yet, let alone the definition. So, I did something to myself that I still do to this day, almost seven years later: I pull out my own hair. I grew up with bald patches, uneven hair, bare eyelids, and weirdly shaped eyebrows. This caused a lot of problems for me, mentally and emotionally. Trichotillomania is the official term for pulling hair out nonstop as a coping mechanism to stress or anxiety. At least, that’s the most simplistic definition I was told by my therapist. From a young age, my parents wanted to be, one might say, an overachiever. I was praised when I got A’s but ridiculed when I got B’s. They always had high expectations from me and that caused me a lot of stress and anxiety, anxiety that made me believe I was worthless if I wasn’t the best. So, I got straight A’s all throughout high school (besides 2 B+’s) and graduated with a 4.1 weighted GPA. And what did this cause me? Extreme lack of self confidence, mental disorders, and more. Living with trichotillomania is a real and difficult struggle. I know it’s not the most heard of like anxiety, depression, self-harm, etc, but it should be talked about just as much. When I got my official diagnosis last year, I researched more about it than when I did when I was 10. The amount of YouTube videos that I watched educated me about what I have. I cried to many, read comments of fellow “trichsters” who were also struggling, and even commented words of support. I told my closest friends about what I have and they were nothing but accepting. I believe it made us grow closer as friends since telling them was one of the biggest steps in my life. When my parents finally got me in therapy last year, I was so grateful for them for finally understanding that what I’m doing isn’t out of my own will. Of course, there are moments where they say words that make me sad, but I learned to push through and not to listen to them. I only have myself to count on since I’m the only one who can stop pulling out my hair. This is my number one goal in life. I’ve been working on it for years and I still believe it can be achieved. With people like me all over the world, I feel less alone with my struggles. I’ve learned from an early age that “you never know what people are going through, and to never judge anyone.” I never was like my siblings or classmates who were sometimes mean, judging, and unsympathetic towards people who were different than themselves. I cared for everyone, no matter what, even if they hurt me mentally. At 17 years old, my view of the world is completely different than when I was 10. The world isn’t perfect, no one is perfect. People have views, likes, or appearances different from other people and that’s okay. People can be different, that’s who they are. Not everyone is nice, not everyone is mean, but everyone is their own person. I am thriving while battling my own personal struggles, yet I still come out the other side okay. I am me, and for that, I thank myself.

Ashley isn’t an unique name. In fact, it’s one of the most common names in the world. Now, I come from a long line of Peruvian ancestry. My parents and siblings were born there, but they decided to move to America to have a better life. Once I was born in the US, they had to give me a name: an identity to who I would be as a person. The names of my family were all unique and gave a strong sense as to who they were as a person. It fit them to say the least. Seventeen years later, I wonder why they decided to give me such a basic and common name like Ashley. My parents went to Peru to visit their family recently, and once they came back, we all talked about their trip. The subject of my and my younger sister’s name came up since we were the first to be born in the US within our family line. “Why Ashley and Haylie?” we asked them. Long story short, my parents saw it in a magazine of two sister’s that had our names. They don’t remember what the their story was, all they cared about was that they found names for their future children. “Yeah, but why common names for us?” is the what we responded with. My dad had one thing to say to us, “Because they’re American names.” Confused, I started thinking of what my father meant by that. ‘American names? We’re Hispanic/Latinx, shouldn’t have we gotten names from that category?’ He went on to clarify what he meant, and what he said made me have a different perspective as to who I am. My parents wanted their children to have names that would make their kids life easier. They didn’t give us Hispanic/Latinx names because we were not in a Hispanic/Latinx country anymore. They wanted my sister and I to have more privilege than they did as immigrants with non-American names. They even believed that our last name “Bejar” was putting us at a disadvantage. The original pronunciation is “Beh-har” since in Hispanic/Latinx culture, “j” usually sounds like an “H.” But as long as I could remember, people would say “Beh-jar” because in America, the “j” sound is different. I never thought that my name of all things was considered an advantage. To me, it was just a name I disliked because it didn’t fit in with the rest of my family. But they did it so that I could fit in with the American culture. I’ve accomplished a lot and my parents are, of course, extremely proud of me. In whatever award or certificate I received, my full name are the biggest words there. And I’m proud. I’m proud that my name is there because I know that I earned that award for what I did, not just my American first name. I’m proud that my family’s last name is there because it gives insight into my background. Both names I’m proud of, both names are important, and both names side by side represent me. My name is Ashley Bejar, and I’m proud of who I am, what I accomplished, and what I can do in the future.

I'm able to learn things quickly, with the best way through visual demonstrations and examples. This is not the same for others. I remember in my junior year of high school when my teacher for my pre-calculus class was teaching us a new lesson, my classmates were visibly confused. I knew what she had just taught us, so I went over to my fellow peers and offered to them with their work. I gave an example of how to solve the problem and gave a detailed explanation on each step. Afterwards, they would get the hang of it and they thanked me while I went back to my seat. The reason I did this was because when I was younger, I would often need help with my work, but I never had the courage to ask anyone for help. Eventually, with practice, I learned how to do the work on my own. It was difficult relying solely on myself to get the work done correctly, so I didn't want my classmates to also go through that. This led me to volunteer to tutor multiple kids on various subjects, which I still do. My tutees remind me of myself, and I am grateful that their parents reached out for help to teach their kids. This is truly a great way to give back to the world.

As my head starts to hurt after studying or doing homework for hours, I start losing interest in what I was currently doing. The expectations my parents had were high, so oftentimes it was mandatory that I finish all my work before I start relaxing. I knew that this was not an effective method, and it made my mental health worse than it already was. So, I came up with my own method: I would take 5 minute breaks after 30 minutes of doing work. I used those 5 minute increments by taking a quick walk through my backyard, drawing in my notebook, or listening to music. Though these might not seem like much, they brought serenity to my body and mind, and I returned to working with a calm and relaxed mindset. After my work for the day was completed, I would take out a book I currently was reading and read a few chapters on my living room couch, with snacks next to me, of course. Reading is an activity that reduces stress caused by either school, family, or personal problems, and it also takes me out of reality as I believe I am a character in their world witnessing what is happening. Just for a few hours a day, I am somewhere else and I am someone without problems, anxiety, etc. I've learned a bit too late that mental health should always come first. School is of course important, but it is the reason why my mental health was declining. Still, I managed to get grades that would make my parents proud of me. That's all I wanted from them. I'm now doing much better, but if I had put myself first, then maybe my mental health would've been better.

As I waited for my turn on the swings, a young boy called out my younger sister’s name. I watched as she ran to this boy and hugged him. Apparently they were friends. My eyes went from watching them embrace each other to this other boy who was the brother. He was a year older than me, but we got along very well. That summer, every day, we hung out with them for hours on end. This happened 6 years ago and still, I remember like it was yesterday. I never had a friend like him since then.