If my life-long war had been with one of my brothers or even a close friend, I don’t think that I would be the person that I am today. I was finally able to start living rather than merely surviving, when I learned to win a battle against the most complicated person I know: myself. My story is proof that tragedies can become triumphs, conflicts can lead to beautiful resolutions, and weaknesses can make someone grow stronger. Mental health is a topic that is very commonly brushed over in today’s society. Unfortunately, it is often used as a joke, or just completely avoided. As someone who has dealt with anxiety from a very young age, I can tell you that it is, in fact, dangerously real. It can take over your life in ways that cannot be avoided and remain undetected until it seems impossible to beat. From as early as I can remember, I’ve spent most of my time running the future through my head, and planning every possible scenario of what could go wrong. These “traits” have helped me to a certain extent, yet they have stolen more than they appeared to have given me. Like any other enemy, however, mental illness can be beaten. I slowly started to lose myself physically and emotionally, as my eating disorder developed. I was admitted to a treatment center which I went to for three months, until I was able to live more independently. I realized that I possessed so many scars with important lessons underneath, but I was spending all of my time trying to cover them up. I finally understood that I needed to stop working to write an impossibly perfect story, and start living the beautiful one I already had. After years of fighting, I was finally able to discover the truth. I have learned an infinite amount of lessons that I am now passionate about sharing with other people who feel alone in their battles. The answer wasn’t to win the war, but rather, to realize that I never really was the enemy in the first place.

I choose to live. This is one statement that I hold close to my heart. I have suffered with mental health issues my whole life, and I have learned so much about myself in the last few years through my struggles. I have spent so much time seeking an unattainable standard that I have missed out on my life. I reach so far for control that I begin to lose sight of the goal. I wrote this song as a symbol of hope at a very low point in my life. I was searching for something that I thought I should be for so long that I ended up losing myself. This is the story of my journey to try to find myself again.

Some people spend their childhoods scheming against a nemesis or carefully plotting ways to embarrass their siblings, and most people have at least one friendship that is unfortunately built on the foundation of competition. If my life-long war had been with one of my brothers or even a close friend, I don’t think that I would be the person that I am today. I was finally able to start living rather than merely surviving, when I learned to win a battle against the most complicated person I know: myself. As a person who spends most of their time cheering and acting in musicals, you would think that I would have a healthy amount of confidence built up. I’ve never been one to compliment myself or even genuinely accept a compliment from others, but my insecurities became almost unbearable as the future began to near. I constantly felt like a failure and I believed that the whole world was against me. So, I made sure that I didn't mess up and that no one would be disappointed in me. I began to change parts of myself that I had never before viewed as flaws. The next year of my life was by far the hardest of them all. I slowly started to lose myself physically and emotionally, as my eating disorder developed. I was admitted to a treatment center which I went to for three months, until I was able to live more independently. Asking or even agreeing to get help is the most difficult step in the journey to recovery. I had spent my entire life trying to battle with my negative thoughts, but it was only to take two steps backward for every step forward. I thought that what I was doing to myself was “healthy,” but when everyone was constantly telling me how worried they were, I realized that my view of myself was completely distorted. I decided that I couldn't heal on my own, and took the stand to seek out the necessary support that I had been trying to avoid. The day of my intake appointment at the treatment center was by far the hardest day of my life, but it was also the day that I am proudest of because it is when I decided to embark on the most difficult journey of my life. Having the support of my family and the courage to admit that there was a problem, was the first step to restoring my life. However, I still do not have the same freedom that I did before, and I have to live knowing that I missed out on years of my young life. Although it brought me and my loved ones an indescribable amount of pain, I wouldn’t take away that experience for the world. At the beginning of the year, I was barely able to see myself living the next day. Now, I am not only aware of my future, but I am able to think of it with joy and anticipation. It seems impossible for me to pin-point the specific moment that I started to feel a change, but I do know that after my three months of intensive treatment, I had an entirely new view of life. I had spent 16 years trying to make myself into someone that I wasn’t. So, when I was forced to experience and express my emotions, I began to realize who I was and what I wanted for my life. My therapist told me the story of a mute boy who was finally given the ability to speak. After a lifetime of sitting on the sidelines, he had so many stories to tell. When I contemplated this narrative, I connected with the feeling of not having a voice. I realized that I possessed so many scars with important lessons underneath, but I was spending all of my time trying to cover them up. I finally understood that I needed to stop working to write an impossibly perfect story, and start living the beautiful one I already had. I can’t say that I don’t still struggle with anxiety today, but I can tell you that I no longer allow it to control my life as it once did. Having the courage to fight it makes me stronger and teaches me more about myself every day. My struggles have definitely made me who I am. Even though my internal conflict has taken a devastating amount from me, it has given me lessons that I could never have otherwise learned. I have learned that being prepared is important, but worrying will only waste the precious gift of time. I’ve found that confidence doesn’t have to mean that you view yourself above others, but it is freedom to view yourself as a separate person that doesn’t need to be compared to anyone else. I have been taught that “perfection” is an unattainable standard that doesn't even exist. What is perfect for one person could be a disappointment to someone else, and attempting to please everyone else could result in your own demise. I had to stop trying to control every single aspect of my life, and instead rely on faith to guide me. I’m not proud of all of the time that I spent worrying, but I am proud of the knowledge that it has bestowed on me. Life is not about feeling shame for your past, but rather, using each low as incentive to climb even higher. For me, the solution wasn’t growing to hate my anxiety or try to ignore it. Instead, it was to fight to find my voice in the midst of its lies. I thought pushing myself down would somehow elevate me, but all I was doing was stunting my growth. After years of battling, I was finally able to discover the truth. The answer wasn’t to win the war, but rather, to realize that I never really was the

Some people spend their childhoods scheming against a nemesis or carefully plotting ways to embarrass their siblings, and most people have at least one friendship that is unfortunately built on the foundation of competition. Although we try our hardest to deny it, everyone is in competition with someone or something. Sometimes, this engagement can be harmless or even beneficial. It can keep you on your toes and give you the initiative to constantly try to better yourself. Be that as it may, it’s necessary to have the option of stepping away and separating yourself from the situation, in order to assure that the conflict remains tamed. However, if you allow the problem to overcome you, then the battle can prove to be detrimental. If my life-long war had been with one of my brothers or even a close friend, I don’t think that I would be the person that I am today. I was finally able to start living rather than merely surviving, when I learned to win a battle against the most complicated person I know: myself. My story is proof that tragedies can become triumphs, conflicts can lead to beautiful resolutions, and weaknesses can make someone grow stronger. As a person who spends most of their time cheering and acting in musicals, you would think that I would have a healthy amount of confidence built up. I’ve never been one to compliment myself or even genuinely accept a compliment from others, but my insecurities became almost unbearable as the future began to near. I constantly felt like a failure and I believed that the whole world was against me. So, I made sure that I didn't mess up and that no one would be disappointed in me. I began to change parts of myself that I had never before viewed as flaws. The next year of my life was by far the hardest of them all. I slowly started to lose myself physically and emotionally, as my eating disorder developed. I was admitted to a treatment center which I went to for three months, until I was able to live more independently. The day of my intake appointment at the anorexia treatment center was by far the hardest day of my life, but it was also the day that I am proudest of because it is when I decided to embark on the most difficult journey of my life. Having the support of my family and the courage to admit that there was a problem, was the first step to restoring my life. However, I still do not have the same freedom that I did before, and I have to live knowing that I missed out on years of my young life. Although it brought me and my loved ones an indescribable amount of pain, I wouldn’t take away that experience for the world. At the beginning of the year, I was barely able to see myself living the next day. Now, I am not only aware of my future, but I am able to think of it with joy and anticipation. It seems impossible for me to pin-point the specific moment that I started to feel a change, but I do know that after my three months of intensive treatment, I had an entirely new view of life. I spent 16 years trying to make myself into someone that I wasn’t. When I was forced to experience and express my emotions, I began to realize who I was and what I wanted for my life. My therapist told me the story of a mute boy who was finally given the ability to speak. After a lifetime of sitting on the sidelines, he had so many stories to tell. When I contemplated this narrative, I connected with the feeling of not having a voice. I realized that I possessed so many scars with important lessons underneath, but I was spending all of my time trying to cover them up. I finally understood that I needed to stop working to write an impossibly perfect story, and start living the beautiful one I already had. I can’t say that I don’t still struggle with anxiety today, but I can tell you that I no longer allow it to control my life. Having the courage to fight it makes me stronger and teaches me more about myself every day. My struggles have definitely made me who I am. Even though my internal conflict has taken a devastating amount from me, it has given me lessons that I could never have otherwise learned. I have learned that being prepared is important, but worrying will only waste the precious gift of time. I’ve found that confidence doesn’t have to mean that you view yourself above others, but it is freedom to view yourself as a separate person that doesn’t need to be compared to anyone else. I have been taught that “perfection” is an unattainable standard that doesn't even exist. What is perfect for one person could be a disappointment to someone else, and attempting to please everyone else could result in your own demise. I had to stop trying to control every single aspect of my life, and instead rely on faith to guide me. I’m not proud of all of the time that I spent worrying, but I am proud of the knowledge that it has bestowed on me. Life is not about feeling shame for your past, but rather, using each low as incentive to climb even higher. For me, the solution wasn’t growing to hate my anxiety or try to ignore it. Instead, it was to fight to find my voice in the midst of its lies. I thought pushing myself down would somehow elevate me, but all I was doing was stunting my growth. After years of battling, I was finally able to discover the truth. The answer wasn’t to win the war, but rather, to realize that I never really was the enemy in the first place.

Some people spend their childhoods scheming against a nemesis or carefully plotting ways to embarrass their siblings, and most people have at least one friendship that is unfortunately built on the foundation of competition. If my life-long war had been with one of my brothers or even a close friend, I don’t think that I would be the person that I am today. I was finally able to start living rather than merely surviving, when I learned to win a battle against the most complicated person I know: myself. The earliest cases of my anxiety took the form of childhood fears. I kept a packed bag beside my bed, in case there was an emergency and I had to get out quickly. I would lie awake for hours planning my escape plan in the case of a fire, and I was constantly trying to improve my methods of survival. Eventually, I outgrew my childish ways, as most children do. In fifth grade I began waking up with stomach pains. Sometimes, they would go away, but some days I wasn’t even able to go to school. After it had gone on for a while, my parents decided to take me to the doctor. They discovered that I had an excess of acid in my stomach due to stress and prescribed me medication to decrease the pain. However, not long after, I began coping with my anxiety in a way that proved to negatively influence me - physically and emotionally. When I was able to get help, the negative thoughts slowly weakened. I stopped holding on to perfection in such an obvious way, and instead, pushed it down beneath the surface. I went through Middle School and the beginning of High School the only way I knew how to. I worked hard to get the best possible grades, be the kindest I could be, and take up the least space that I possibly could. Nonetheless, the start of my sophomore year proved to be too much for the mask that I had spent my whole life holding onto. I slowly started to lose myself physically and emotionally, as my eating disorder developed. I was admitted to a treatment center which I went to for three months, until I was able to live more independently. The day of my intake appointment at the treatment center was by far the hardest day of my life, but it was also the day that I am proudest of because it is when I decided to embark on the most difficult journey of my life. Having the support of my family and the courage to admit that there was a problem, was the first step to restoring my life. Although it brought me and my loved ones an indescribable amount of pain, I wouldn’t take away that experience for the world. At the beginning of the year, I was barely able to see myself living the next day. Now, I am not only aware of my future, but I’m able to think of it with joy and anticipation. It seems impossible for me to pin-point the specific moment that I started to feel a change, but I do know that after my three months of intensive treatment, I had an entirely new view of life. I had spent 16 years trying to make myself into someone that I wasn’t. So, when I was forced to experience and express my emotions, I began to realize who I was and what I wanted for my life. My therapist told me the story of a mute boy who was finally given the ability to speak. After a lifetime of sitting on the sidelines, he had so many stories to tell. When I contemplated this narrative, I connected with the feeling of not having a voice. I realized that I possessed so many scars with important lessons underneath, but I was spending all of my time trying to cover them up. I finally understood that I needed to stop working to write an impossibly perfect story, and start living the beautiful one I already had. I can’t say that I don’t still struggle with anxiety today, but I can tell you that I no longer allow it to control my life. Having the courage to fight it makes me stronger and teaches me more about myself every day. My struggles have definitely made me who I am. Even though my internal conflict has taken a devastating amount from me, it has given me lessons that I could never have otherwise learned. I have learned that being prepared is important, but worrying will only waste the precious gift of time. I’ve found that confidence doesn’t have to mean that you view yourself above others, but it is freedom to view yourself as a separate person that doesn’t need to be compared to anyone else. I have been taught that “perfection” is an unattainable standard that doesn't even exist. What is perfect for one person could be a disappointment to someone else, and attempting to please everyone else could result in your own demise. I had to stop trying to control every single aspect of my life, and instead rely on faith to guide me. I’m not proud of all of the time that I spent worrying, but I am proud of the knowledge that it has bestowed on me. Life is not about feeling shame for your past, but rather, using each low as incentive to climb even higher. For me, the solution wasn’t growing to hate my anxiety or try to ignore it. Instead, it was to fight to find my voice in the midst of its lies. I thought pushing myself down would somehow elevate me, but all I was doing was stunting my growth. After years of battling, I was finally able to discover the truth. The answer wasn’t to win the war, but rather, to realize that I never really was the enemy in the first place.