What is perfect?
If you asked me that question I could answer without a hesitation. I would say “me”. Take it however you want but I will walk away with my head held up high, secretly hoping one day I will actually believe myself.
What is the perfect girl? How smart is she, how skinny is she, how many friends does she have? Are there even real answers to these questions? I have an image in my head of the ideal perfect person and I hold myself accountable to what I believe makes someone perfect. This person is beautiful, happy and strong. Despite what I say to others when I look in the mirror I see the farthest thing from perfect.
Since the 10th grade I have been suffering from bulimia, in the 2nd grade I was diagnosed with dyslexia, and for as long as I can remember I always thought of myself as the “weak one” but I will never let you know that. I am persistent in portraying this perfect person with no flaws. I want to be looked at as the strong woman with no downfalls. I laugh everything off, I make jokes in uncomfortable situations, and sometimes pretend a situation is not real and ignore it until I have too. So what is wrong with my method? People look at me how I want, as a strong happy girl but that is not how I look at myself.
I still purge because I think I am overweight and stressed, I work as hard as everyone else at my academics just to see below average results, and I cry because I am heartbroken. After years of hating myself, my freshman year of college I finally realized I needed help. I passed out from dehydration in the middle of class one day. I fell facedown on the floor and remember waking up to the paramedics positioning me onto the starchier. I knew I passed out because I have not been eating but I was not going to tell anyone that. I was not going to let people know I have a problem. If it were not for my friend who told the doctors I am bulimic they would have never known. When my mom arrived at the hospital I had to break her heart and tell her that her little girl is not so perfect. After hours of talking to doctors and I was required to start seeing a counselor.
Seeing a counselor was the last thing I wanted to do. I did not want to admit that I needed help. I was not ready to show people that I am weak. In counseling I had to accept that I am not perfect, no one is. It is a long process but it is all worth it.
Believing in yourself is beauty in itself. I’m not fully recovered yet and still have a long way to go. I will always be the one making others laugh because that is the person I want to be known for. I have learned I have a strong support system that believes in me I just need to start believing myself.