Perfection, love, shamelessness, celebration, beauty, wholeness, rest, peace. These were the things I felt I was promised by starving myself; instead I was made breathless. I exhaled four years of my life to my eating disorder, slowly smothering everything that made me human. My vision narrowed into numbers, isolation, distortion, and control. I could no longer recognize myself physically or spiritually. Recovery has been gasping for air, inhaling the life underneath, although maddeningly unpredictable, is one in which each breath has worth. For years, my body felt like the only valuable thing about me. Intimacy became my conduit of validation. I watched myself through the eyes of a man; my very own patriarchal built in enemy. One of the behaviors I engaged in was my ritual of preparation. I’d make plans with my Freshman year hookup, then spend days emptying myself and restricting all liquid and food, including the water from my toothbrush. I had to be in complete, doll like, pristine condition to be viable. I’d try on every outfit I owned, and then I’d do it again. In which was I perfect? A deadly mindset. I was mastering the element of effortless beauty through a process that was also stripping the enamel from my teeth, destroying my digestion, and somehow muffling my hearing (Eustachian Tube Dysfunction). I cared more about how easy it could be for him to pick me up than if I had the physical capability to perform in theater class, or listen to music that wasn’t veiled by an underwater sound. I was freezing even in Summer’s heat; the tip of a dark cold iceberg. I am haunted by my actions during this period of my life. The intimate realness of mental illness has shaped my goals, relationships and the world I’ve rebuilt. The work I’ve done is comparable to studying those quotes you find painted on awful white-washed blocks of decorative wood at HomeGoods. Quotes people repeat to each other so often in the absence of more authentic words, that they become meaningless. But, they are true and worth examining closer. Now I wake searching for the good in each day, instead of ways to avoid breakfast. I allow myself to enjoy the lace trim on my socks and my blossoming orchid. I deserve these little things. Instead of abusing the treadmill, I have a snack before excercise and remind myself that I can do hard things without hurting my body and mind. I work tirelessly to perceive the world like this every day. The process is slow, moment by moment unrewarding, but progress is measured in remembering my worst day and knowing I’m miles from that person. Recovery does not mean being alleviated from emotional suffering. It means understanding that in the wake of a completely uncontrollable world, I can still make everything softer by loving myself. In treatment, I was taught body neutrality, but I’ve always known that wasn’t my end goal. I aim to love my body, not for its shape or size, but for its ability to carry me strongly from my dorm to subway to stage. Its ability to kiss my partner’s eyelids and enjoy a cool breeze. Its ability to sing and clearly hear music that has changed my life. As my compulsions distanced themselves from my actions, I was left with a vacancy in my life, that I now can prioritize filling. I finally can be a friend, partner, leader, and grow my artistry with conviction. My relationships are shaped by the one I have built within myself, crafted by love and rest. I’m still learning and discovering how I fit into the world, but simply being present and active in my community has become the underpinning of my life. I now understand that the foundation of “purpose” is our connection to others and the humanity we are tethered by. This has led me to be submersed at Manhattan School of Music, not only as a student but as Head RA and Treasurer of Alpha Psi Omega. My experience with mental health drew back the curtain revealing my truest goals and values. Anorexia made my life incredibly small with value placed on self destruction through insidious discipline. All I’ve ever wanted was to live an unfathomably big life. Little Fia would be wagging her finger disapprovingly. She wants to sing, create, lead, and care for people. My goals are no longer centered around perfection or control, but my presence, and honoring my younger self. As my eating disorder mutated, there were nights where my purpose on Earth regressed into nothing but starving and binging. I’d lie awake convinced my body might finally give out and I’d be gone. My trauma bewitched me while the damage control I engaged in ate me alive and licked its fingers. I’m lucky that after years of exhaustion my desire to live rendered me indigestible to the worst of my eating disorder. My life is not measured by how little space I can take up within it, but by how willing I am to live it as big as I can. I fail at this sometimes, but what’s funny about perseverance is that often you don’t fail. That was never an option when I was under fueling. My secret to happiness is remembering that the trials of life are ultimately more important (and fun!) than the outcome. I trust myself to breathe through every bite, blessing, and uncomfortable moment I encounter, or at the very least, try my damn hardest. I know what I want, who I want, and the life I want to keep living. My thorny experiences with anxiety and an eating disorder ultimately strengthened my commitment as an artist. The confidence and certitude of my younger self is something I’ve had to relearn throughout college. I hope to grow as a musical artist throughout my entire life, purposefully telling a story. This includes sharing my own story, as the epitome of perseverance for women like me.

“Hi my name is Sofia Fusco and when I grow up, I want to be a ROCK STAR!” I roared without a shred of inhibition. Mrs. Rooney, paused the camera and called up the next kindergartener in line for our video. A scientist, author, football player and astronaut. I was the lone rock star and so began my love of all music. My musicianship was rooted in childhood theater camps, choirs, competitions, music theory, voice and piano lessons, guitar and ukelele (self taught), community/regional theater musicals, cabarets and at least one shower concert a night! All of which have led me to the Manhattan School of Music to pursue a Bachelor of Music. Music is the ultimate form of therapy, the most specific way one can humanly be present and tell a story. I’ve learned through my own emotions and the constant trials of life. This is a skillset that I developed not just as a musician and actor, but as a living breathing person. It is the human experience. My own personal experiences with anxiety and an eating disorder have strengthened my commitment as an artist. The confidence and conviction of my five year old self, is something I have had to relearn throughout college. I hope to grow as a musical artist throughout my entire life, with purposeful storytelling. This includes sharing my own story, as the epitome of perseverance for girls like me. A BM in Music will not make me a rock star, but I can be the rock star of my own life, finding happiness through my commitment to artistry, and not of the stage exclusively. I’ve discovered that developing the artistry in others is just as meaningful as developing my own. It all brings me such great joy! I am recognized at MSM for my natural ability to mentor and my strong instincts. Students regularly seek my guidance on material selection, feedback, and audition preparation. At MSM, I am the Head Resident Assistant and the Treasurer of Alpha Psi Omega, our student led performance group. In these roles, I am present in my community and in fostering connections. Community is the underpinning in all that I do. Throughout college, I’ve grown to love myself as a performer as well as the creation of casts and productions. This was a sparkly new, yet naturally familiar muscle to me. My brain works like an automated musical puzzle sorter. I’ve unknowingly developed a taste for actors, roles, and character recognition that has the potential to go beyond my own artistic expression. This natural affinity led me to conversations about the world of casting and musical direction. I am learning that my love for musical performance is simply the root and that there is so much more I want to do. When I graduate, I’ll be 22. When I was in Kindergarten 22 felt very old. I now suspect that in the grand scheme of my short life, 22 is actually very young. I’ve hardly even lived yet. My passions are far more nuanced now than when I thought “I want to sing, act, dance and tell great stories!” I want to honor my five year old self and craft a career based in music, community and in using my trials to help others. I love performing, being a leader, coaching others and only recently sharing my life experiences with mental illness. The unequivocal impact we have on one another is the superpower my muscial artistry holds. This is my why, my deep love of musical stories that interlace our lives together. Performance Link: https://youtu.be/xGYMHY3O6oY?feature=shared