Shhh no one knows

When I was in the fifth grade, I gained a little bit of weight. I wasn’t even fat, just slightly chubby, but I felt huge. My sisters would tease me and call me a beast. This is when I began hating my body and myself. I thought I deserved being teased because I was disgusting. I thought I was ugly and I was ashamed of myself. I remember feeling so uncomfortable. I didn’t want anyone to look at me, I hated shopping for clothes, and I refused to weigh myself when anyone else was around because I was so embarrassed by my weight. I even avoided having to go to the doctor when I was sick in fear of being weighed. Once I stood in front of a full length mirror and complained to my mother that my thighs were too big. I was twelve. She reassured me that they were just the right size, but it didn’t help. It’s the only memory I have of admitting to anyone that I hated something about myself. It’s sad to think about because that self hate never went away. When I was fifteen I developed an eating disorder, at sixteen I cut myself for the first time, at seventeen I was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder, and by eighteen I was depressed. In the six years between being twelve and being eighteen I learned a lot of things, but how to love myself was not one of them. I wish I could go to every middle school and tell those kids that they are all amazing and special. I wish I could take away the pain of mental illness from everyone suffering, I really do.