Ever since I was a little girl, it was put into my head that I had to have a certain appearance, that I needed to be a certain size, and that if I did not fit this criteria that I was not pretty enough. As a woman, I felt from a very young age that I had to be a certain way.

Because of the pressure from media, peers, and family, at 11 years old, I headed on a dangerous path and no one realized until it until my senior year of high school. By then, it was almost too late. I did not realize myself the path that I was on until the summer after my freshman year of college, when I had almost ruined everything.

When I was 11, I made it my sole mission to become a cheerleader. I had always wanted to be one and since I was going to be starting middle school the next year, I wanted to start training and learning everything that I needed to know. At the time, I thought that I was way too skinny. I was bullied on a daily basis for everything from my eyes being too big to being a stick because as an African-American girl, I should of had some sort of junk in my trunk.

Well the summer before middle school, I started to eat a little bit more and the words that I will never forget came out of my step mother’s mouth, “If you keep eating like that, you are going to get fatter than what you already are and no one wants a fat cheerleader.”

From that moment on I started working out more, joined my school’s cross country team, and started watching what I ate. I did not really notice a difference at first and I honestly think that no one else did either. I kept this up for two years and even started to skip meals at school. I wouldn’t eat lunch or breakfast and tried to eat as small of a dinner as possible. Pretty soon, I noticed a difference and I was beginning to get more comfortable with how I looked. Then, I moved back to Georgia and started high school.

Over the course of the summer before my freshman year, I gained who knows how much weight and I still really haven’t forgave myself for it. Due to where I lived at, I really wasn’t able to do sports anymore, so I picked up dancing and started watching what I ate even more so. My sophomore year, it was found out that I had stomach ulcers and I had to change my diet drastically, which meant less fatty salty foods and this was not a problem for me. I kept dancing and started to eat less and even made myself throw up just for added measure. No one noticed and that was completely okay.

Even with everything that I was doing, I still could not tell a difference and I still felt fat.

I started to look for ways to lose weight and look the way that I was supposed to look. I basically continued on this path through my senior year of high school and even became a vegetarian just to have more control over my weight and what I put into my body. Unfortunately, I started fainting a lot and no one could figure out why and they still can’t.

I continued to struggle even after I graduated from high school and when I did work crew at SharpTop Cove, things started to turn around. I started to eat a little bit better and I started to get healthier. I even stopped counting my calories and worrying as much about my weight as I had in the past. Things seemed to be getting better until I went to college and nearly destroyed everything. I let my weight and my need to be perfect and fit into the world’s mold of what is acceptable take control of everything in my life and got broken in the process.

When I went to college in the fall of 2013 at Maryville, I hit a complete low point. I was hardly eating and instead of gaining the freshman 15 I started the freshman negative 20. I was rapidly losing weight and looked horrible. My friends were worried and I was counting every single calorie that I ate down to the exact amount. It wasn’t until the summer of 2014 that I realized that I had a huge problem. I ended up doing a program through YoungLife called Discipleship Focus and started to realize that I did not need to conform to the world’s idea of beauty. I was already beautiful in God’s eyes and that was really matters. I did not need to be a certain weight or size to be accepted because I already was, by a God who truly loves me without end and who will continue to do so.

I am still recovering now and trying to rebuild what got destroyed, but in a healthy and productive way. I still have a long ways to go, but I can no longer say that I  am anorexic or bulimic. I remember a time when I couldn’t admit that I had a problem or that I needed help. I continued to hide behind a mask and pretend that I was alright until I could no longer do it. I let my weight and size define me for 9 years and sometimes I still revert back to my old way of thinking, but I take everyday as a victory. I am not my weight, nor my size and neither are you. Each and every single one of you are beautiful and truly loved.

Growing up, similar to many teenage girls in today’s society, I found myself struggling with self-confidence.

I always found issues with my appearance; my grades were never good enough and I was always wishing to be someone else other than me. I constantly compared myself to “that girl” I thought I should be.

“That girl” had the perfect hair, “that girl” had the perfect body, “that girl” received a better grade on her test etc… It never occurred to me that I still received an A on the test, had a long head of hair down to my waist, or that I had a pretty average muscular type body.

I only saw flaws.

When I was in tenth grade, I felt like I needed to control something in my life.

Everything felt out of control and there was nothing I could do to better myself.

I will never forget the night after my dance recital in May, when I forced myself to vomit for the first time.

Why vomit?

I still ask myself this, and I still do not have an answer. It was something that just felt automatic.

Something that was secret. Something that I only knew about. It wasn’t that I was trying to “be skinny” or lose a few pounds. It was simply control.

However, being the type of intense person that I am, it quickly become an addiction. The first time turned into an excessive daily habit. In my “worst days”, I could vomit up to seven times a day.

Luckily, my mother knew the signs and was able to get me help as soon as possible. As much as I regretted her finding out, and feared that she would be mad, she was understanding, patient, and refused to let me sink.

The last thing I wanted was for her to be disappointed.

My mother made a few phone calls and enrolled me in an extensive daily rehab program three days later. After a summer full of intense Monday through Friday therapy, I finally felt human again.

I learned how to eat appropriate portions and the importance of overall life balance, and the friendships I made there still last to this day.

Therapy consisted of eating our daily meals there, which was more of a struggle than I thought it would be. Many individuals struggled during dinnertime and for the first few weeks we were not permitted to speak during the dinner hour.

I grew up where everyone shared their stories around the dinner table, so this was definitely an adjustment for me. The most profound part of therapy was the after dinner accountability program.

We had to turn in our food logs that we had kept for the day, and after “tweaking” my portions for the first three weeks, eventually I realized that I needed to be honest or I would never receive the help I needed.

That moment, I realized it was up to me to make the change, and for the first time I wanted to get better.

I looked around the room; many of the individuals were in their late 30s and 40s. They had families at home, and were stuck there all day.

I did not want that to be me. I began following the program specifically designed for me religiously, knowing they were the experts.

The individuals in my program held me accountable for my actions, which is a necessity when struggling with any type of addiction. I “graduated” from the program filled with hope, confidence, and I knew that there was no better me, than me.

I learned how every individual has their own identity, their own unique story… So, why try to be someone else, when there is no other you, than you?

You may wonder… how does my self-confidence and therapy play a role in my life today?

Currently, I am enrolled in the occupational therapy program at West Virginia University. However, for the past year I have been second-guessing my decision, and was never truly satisfied with the profession I chose.

I always wanted more. I had always dreamt of being a surgeon, but never thought I would ever be capable. I still never thought I was smart enough, the finances did not seem to line up, and the schooling seemed to be endless.

Anytime I pondered the question in my head, I had a million reasons to shut it down. Unlike in high school, where I resorted to hiding my fears, I took positive action.

Action that would lead me down an exciting journey! So, this past summer, I had a meeting with the head maxillofacial reconstruction surgeon at our local hospital and he changed my life.

He sat me down and told me that if being a surgeon was truly what I wanted to do, I would NEVER be satisfied with anything else. He flat out told me to stop “half-assing” my life choices, and to be brave enough to take chances.

He has continued to invest the time into me, and for that I am forever grateful. I have finally decided that I will be attending medical school when I graduate in order to pursue my dreams.

Although there have been some bumps along the way, no one can stop me from being the best me possible.