Advanced Essay 1: It's Not One and Done

Introduction:
This essay is about my experience with bullying, mental disorders, and healing. When reading this essay, I hope that people realize that healing isn't always about being happy or perfect, but about being better. I am proud of my ability to be so vulnerable and to still write well. Hopefully I can continue to do this throughout the year and my life.

It Isn't One and Done

“Watch the fat girl run!”

   The words would sting almost as much as the rocks they threw. Growing up, I was bullied badly. One of the worst things that the kids in my school would do was to steal my things; they would take my notebooks and writing utensils, and I would have to chase them for it. Sometimes they’d even throw things away if didn’t catch them. All the while, students that I wasn’t chasing were throwing rocks at me-- as if I wasn’t already slow enough.

To this day, I wonder why they wanted to hurt me so and why it takes so long to heal from their injuries. Each day when I would walk to the yellow school bus for the ride home, I heard a chorus of “Miss Piggy” being yelled at me, all at once in varying voices out the bus windows. The 45-minute ride home was torture full of inappropriate jokes, name-calling, and hair-pulling. I can remember multiple occasions on which I was slapped across the face while people recorded it. I was here for their entertainment and ridicule, and to provide homework answers, nothing more.

    The teachers did nothing. Though I repeatedly told my homeroom teachers and saw the principal about these matters, it didn’t seem to matter to them. I was still going to Mass, my grades were good, and my parents were still paying the outrageous tuition. What was there for them to care about?

    Enduring all of these things had large consequences on my life, and it's taken a long time to get even remotely better. By the time I was in seventh grade, every meal I ate would come back up. I was like clockwork, shoving my index and middle fingers down my throat less than half an hour after each meal. Tears streamed down my patchy face as I gagged, staring into the toilet just waiting for for the food and my perception of self-acceptance to come up. All that came was stomach acid and disappointment. My knee-high socks covered the marks that the tile floor left on my knees, and no one thought anything was wrong because I’m not skinny.

Over the years, I have learned to hate myself for not being skinny or fit enough, for being too nerdy, and for every other negative thing my peers had told me. It reflected in every aspect of my life and is shown in my esophageal tears and scarred thighs. When I was thirteen, I almost killed myself.

It is only now in my life that I am learning that it doesn’t matter how others see me. To this day, I struggle and still deny that I’m not okay but I’ve come to a point where my friends build me up rather than tear me down. While I deny that things are wrong, some people know without me having to say a word. Because of this, I am now in therapy, though I had to be dragged there.

The goal is self-acceptance. I hear this often; people tell you to love yourself but I truly don’t. I am trying but I don’t know how to put that into motion, to make myself truly feel this way. How can you love someone that you hate?

Healing means getting better, little by little. For me, it can even be eating three meals a day, something many wouldn’t assume I struggle with. I have to try to be me, without caring what others think, to keep myself physically and mentally healthy. These are things that I struggle with on a daily basis, but I’ve learned to push through.

Honestly, I don't know if, how, or when I'll get better. I just sort of hope that I do. I have to believe that at one point in my life, things will be okay, even though they're terrifying right now. My day goes by, packed full of activities and things to keep my mind from getting ahead of itself, and I try to eat enough to keep myself healthy. To get better, I really must take it one step at a time, and maybe it'll be okay. For now, I'll have to put up with myself and be okay with not being okay.