What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

In high school, I struggled with body-image issues and restrictive eating habits. I was a Varsity Track Athlete and ran 6-7 times a week. I struggled with my self-worth because I thought I had to obtain an extremely thin frame in order to be liked more. I reached my lowest point around the time I turned 15 and was a size 00. At the time, I celebrated this, but my health quickly started deteriorating. For the rest of high school, I was able to put back on some more weight, but always worked myself too hard and didn’t eat enough. I struggled with whether I would ever feel ‘good enough’ and was scared of getting heavier.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

When my family noticed I was starting to pass out more and more, they became very concerned. My mom encouraged me to see food as fuel, and to try to avoid counting calories or trying fad diets. I could tell she was worried, and at first I did try to take better care of myself. However, I struggled with making healthy decisions, because I felt like I got positive attention from my peers when I looked skinnier. It took me until I got to college to stop tracking everything I ate, and to see exercise as a fun stress reliever rather than a daily chore.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

Freshman year of college, I tried so hard to stay in the same shape as I was in high school. I quickly learned that in order to do so, my life would have to revolve around meal prep and spending hours in the gym each day. By the end of that first year, I decided that enough was enough. Over time, I thought about how much happier I would be if I loved my body for how it is, and stopped punishing myself for not being thin enough. Things changed for the better once I made the decision to love myself and treat my body with more respect. What also helped were the more positive friendships I made while at school. Getting involved in different clubs and extra-curriculars, I began to see that I am liked for my character and personality…not for how much I weigh.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

Today, there are still some moments where I find myself having negative thoughts about my body and worth. However, I know that self-love is something that can always be worked and improved upon, and I am so proud of how far I’ve come. I still love to eat healthy foods and go running/to the gym. The difference is that I now do this to feel good, rather than to try to constantly change my body. I no longer step on a scale or get discouraged when last year’s jeans won’t fit. I know that I matter, and what’s on the outside won’t change that. My goal is to lead a happy and fulfilling life, while getting the opportunity to make a positive impact on those around me.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

For those who may be struggling with a similar issue, know that it takes time. I didn’t wake up one day and automatically love myself. Over time, I realized my worth, and kept reminding myself of why my past habits were negatively affecting the way I get to enjoy my life. Challenge yourself every day to break harmful habits, even if you have to take baby steps. Seek support from family or friends you trust, and seek environments in which you feel comfortable and accepted.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

From the age of 13 I began to combat developing feelings of Depression and Generalized Anxiety. I grew up in an Upper-Middle class family, in a nice area, I had loving parents that got along and followed the rules. However, regardless of my fortunate atmosphere I started to feel things I’d never felt before. Following were self-mutilation, sleep deprivation, and good ol’ Psychiatric Hospitalization. It was a progressive disease developing in my head in which I had perceived was slowly rotting my brain. A hopeless case of defeat in which there would never be a cure for the sickness in my brain. I was introduced to Marijuana around the age of 14, and boy did that help me out. If I was bored, I could smoke, if I was mad or sad, I could smoke, if I was happy, then let’s smoke!!! Like any other teen I had my justifications, “It’s a plant, they use it for cancer, it evokes creativity, it’s going to be legal soon”, I didn’t understand that without it, I was defenseless against my thinking disease, and in the process unleashed a new one, the disease of addiction. I told myself the boundaries were limited to pot, my addiction told me that it was okay to drink, use tobacco, do whip-its, and then gradually intensified from there. If I didn’t have a way to get high I needed to find a way to, I started rummaging through family member’s pill cabinets, swallowing painkillers and muscle relaxers, stealing money from family to feed my addiction. Of course, at the time I was under no impression at all that I may have any sort of “substance abuse” problem. People told me I did but i didn’t see what the big deal was, I was just doing it for fun, I was just doing it because I like the way it felt, why can’t everyone just get off my back?! Well little did I know, the absence of drugs would push holes into my brain and heart, and when i would get high again it was to temporarily fill those holes for the time being. My diseases progressed with time, morphing into one evil that was separate from myself, a being that took over me, that was very clearly who I had been or was on the inside. My imagination took a sharp turn into sadistic thoughts powered by nihilism. I began to imagine different scenarios of me killing myself, every, single, day. This escalated until I found any excuse to get high, because it’s the only state I felt comfortable in.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

Unfortunately for most teenagers and young adults, we are all very ignorant in our ways still, and it usually takes a significant event to change our minds about something. For me, it was the way my actions through using drugs (and alcohol) affected the people around me. It took a while, and those people got hurt so many times, but eventually I began to experience the feelings of selflessness. The pain that I caused around me opened up my eyes and allowed me to finally realize that I wasn’t the only one who was affected by my using. From there, I knew it was time to address my addiction.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

My life, is amazing now, I would have never imagined making the process I have so far in the short amount of time that I’ve put work into “recovery”. My mood is much more stable, I struggle with depression and anxiety MUCH less and at VERY little amounts of intensity. I can be trusted by my family and friends again. I don’t have to worry about leaving my phone out unattended. I’m so proud of myself for making a turn around in my life, especially being only 17.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

Empowerment, you need to feel powerful. You need to gain a sense of control over your life, you need to feel confident in the words “I can do this”. Sometimes you need to hype yourself up, sometimes you have to listen to some energizing music, or drink caffeine, or sometimes….you just need someone to give a pep talk for you. I still do it all the time, “Hey Rob, I know this is gonna sound weird, but can you give me a little pep talk? I need somethin to get me goin”.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

The Never Ending Cycle

October 24, 2009
Dr. E suggested I keep a writing journal along with the food journal, so here it is. She said to write about my progress (or lack thereof) plus anything else I want, and that it will be for my eyes only. I used to write in journals when I was younger, but opted out once I realized how much they brought my thoughts to life. Silly thoughts, dark thoughts, sometimes thoughts I never knew I had were all hastily materialized per blue ink scribbles. I soon learned that past me preferred to keep such thoughts from future me, and with that, the journaling ceased.
Today, the journaling commences.

October 26, 2009
I threw up today. I woke up knowing I would; not a single hint of doubt crossed my mind. I’m supposed to keep track of all the times I throw up and pursue possible motives, although I don’t know that there are any. My life really isn’t that hard, and I feel like naming “triggers” is just delegating blame. Have a bad day? Eat the problems away. Don’t like looking in that mirror? Try the toilet. Dropped a pencil on the floor? Go ahead and purge about it. And I do purge about it. I purge about this and that, every day.

October 30, 2009
Dr. E told me she doesn’t expect my habits to change overnight, and to not be discouraged on days like today, or like yesterday. She says once the new prescription kicks in (Prozac) that things should get easier. I’m finding it very hard to keep the food journal for reasons similar to why I couldn’t keep my childhood journals. Quantifying my binges makes me feel almost as sick as the binges themselves. I am aware that humans are not meant to bring so much food into their bodies. Before and during a binge my stomach has learned to disregard the concepts of “hungry” and “full,” and I’m not sure why.

November 5, 2009
Today’s therapy session brought up something I hadn’t thought about in years: when this all started. The first time I threw up was in the seventh grade. Recalling the details feels more like recalling a dream than an actual event that took place in a conscious state. It was in the bathroom sink, and I used a toothbrush instead of my fingers. The purge was both easy and painless, and I remember getting into bed that night thinking I had a new secret I would have to keep from the world. I lied down with a guileful grin, then drifted off into an effortless sleep. At the time, it was a solution to eliminating the perpetual discontent I had with my body. I thought I’d finally found the key to feeling more comfortable in my own skin. I felt I had discovered a covert loophole to the laws of physiology. Of course, it didn’t take long to realize that this wouldn’t be the incredible weight loss solution I had imagined (if anything I have gained weight since the cycle began), but here I am four years later.
That impassioned and temperamental middle schooler is worlds away from the young adult who stares back at me in the mirror now. Today I don’t ride the same emotional roller coaster. I don’t ride a tilt-a-whirl, or even carousel. I am stagnant in manner, aloof in presence. The anxiety and extreme self awareness we all encounter in our awkward pubescent stages had long been lifted, but nothing took their place. There is something quite magical about going through days uninfluenced by emotion. My ‘emotion log’ I was asked to fill out for Dr. E has the word “indifferent” written on Sunday, with an arrow leading it through the rest of the week. My boyfriend doesn’t get to hear the words “I love you” or experience any sort of sincere passion from my end. My friends are granted loyalty, honesty, confidence, but never genuine sympathy. My eyes don’t experience the swelling brought on by heart shattering tears, or by euphoric tears. I embrace the nothing. Nothing greets me every morning, then helps me sleep well at night. And through the years, my purges watched as the nothing slowly began to emerge.
Purges came long before the binging did. The latter was an inevitable aftermath. Once the two met, they linked hands, then chose my brain as their permanent place of residence. They haven’t parted with me since; they’re noisy and ornery and it’s impossible to forget them.

Nov 21, 2009
It’s been about two weeks since my last entry, and to be honest I’ve been avoiding writing in here. I told Dr. E I’m not fond of the journaling, but she says it might help me in the long run. I haven’t yet been given a reason not to trust her, so here is round two.
I threw up six times since Monday, and Dr. E said this is an improvement. I don’t exactly agree. The urges are just as bad, if not worse, and without them subsiding I don’t feel improved at all. For me, the urges are the worst part. Once one is triggered, it doesn’t go away. The urge to eat everything in plain sight takes over my thoughts until it is satisfied. This leads to the next urge, one just as strong, to relieve my body of every last bite.
I’m not proud to admit, even if it is just to future me, that I’ve relieved the urge in places outside of my own home. If the first hint of compulsion cannot be overcome, the cycle must reach completion. I’ve thrown up in friends’ bathrooms, I’ve thrown up in school bathrooms. One time I threw up in a bush in the backyard in the pouring rain, just to make sure I relieved the urge without my family hearing.
I really don’t like writing in journals.

Nov 24, 2009
I didn’t ever plan on going to therapy. I knew I had a problem, but I was convinced that I could stop the purging whenever I felt like it. I was convinced I was in control. I didn’t make a connection between the eating issues and my degrading emotion for a long time.
In the ninth grade my mother heard me throwing up. She called me into her bedroom after the fact and sat me down. I remember being caught off guard by her reaction; she wasn’t upset or worried, but rather angry and disappointed. In her eyes I was a young tenacious warrior, resilient to the petty pressures of adolescence. “This has to stop now,” she told me, “you need to be stronger.” I nodded and went to bed.
I didn’t receive any follow up questions or check-ins after the incident. The issue was brushed under the rug, and I couldn’t have been more relieved about it. The only thing I hated more than having the problem was talking about it.
Then one day, two years later, I finally recognized that hiding the problem wasn’t helping make it disappear, and that talking was my only other option. This time I called my mother into the room and sat her down. I admitted to my continuous struggles with the binging and purging between hysterical sobs. She cradled my shaking body, holding my head close to her heart. My mother may not have been able to identify with the problem, but this time it seemed as if she sincerely understood and accepted her daughter’s indecent flaw. Those were the first tears to escape my eyes in over a year, a prolonged imprisonment of emotions begging to be let out. I let them all out. A week later I found myself in Dr. E’s office.
I was nervous for my first day of therapy, as I had never talked to anyone about purging, let alone a perfect stranger. My mother offered to accompany me to the primary session for support. I accepted this offer.
I am at a loss for words to appropriately describe the feeling of having my mother in therapy that day. She had to hear her perfect little angel confess to the purges, describe them in their utmost detail. She had to listen to me define what a typical binge consisted of down to the last calorie. She took this all in silently with a blank face, and I have no idea what went through her mind. My voice trembled as it filled the cumbersome office air. It was the first time I’d verbalized any of this.
I was relieved when I first met Dr. E. My first impression was that she was very amicable, a good seven inches shorter than me with ivory white hair and a truly sympathetic demeanor. When I attend our weekly visits she listens thoughtfully and intently for the entire sixty minutes. She often wears a smile, which helps me feel relaxed. Her face is aged from a lifetime of grinning and laughter. In one of our earlier sessions we discussed the option of me going to a month long rehab clinic for other ‘bulimic’ adolescents where they’re given communal meals and daily therapy. I declined this offer, but it is still on the table if I decide I need the extra help. Judging by my food diary for this past week, it is still a viable option.

Nov 29, 2009
Today I was in math class when something happened. The back of my head began to swelter and pulsate, my vision blurred, and I lost feeling in my hands. I felt my brain liquify and begin to drip, drip, slowly down the inner lining of my skull. I became both unaware and hyper aware. Time stood still. I watched myself from a place within my own head, but also from a place thousands of miles away. For those few moments I was certain I was going to die. Once my legs were able to bear my weight, I stood up and walked out of the classroom. I paid no mind to the rest of my peers or the teacher. I had no mind to pay. I sat in the school bathroom until I was physically able to conjure thoughts and words, and to call my mother. Even though the hysteria was descending, she offered to pick me up if I didn’t feel comfortable staying at school. They say the crazy don’t know they’re crazy, but anyone who’s experienced this delusional reality can say that for those brief minutes, which feel like days, they are crazy. I left early with my mother that day. And for the first time in a long time, I was scared.

Dec 4, 2009
Dr. E isn’t surprised about the panic attacks. She says they’re probably a consequence to letting a lot of demons surface by talking about my struggles for the first time. Her words don’t help me because it doesn’t make them go away. She says only I can make them go away, but it’s difficult to believe her.
They have been coming out of nowhere, an abrupt assault of my most guarded possession: my mind. It is such a dreadful realization that I am no longer in full conscious control of my mind. At any moment, something beyond my scope of awareness can prompt its kidnap, and I am left to deal with the consequences. I don’t know where I’ll be when they come, and I am still not convinced that they’re harmless or temporary, so getting out of bed has become a real drag.

Dec 24, 2009
It’s been awhile since my last entry, and things are actually a bit better. The Prozac has finally come into full effect and has helped me more or less regain control of my psyche. I can now feel when the panic attacks are coming on and sometimes I can even make them go away before they fully surface. With the panic becoming my main priority, the binging and purging have taken a backseat in my mind.

Dec 27, 2009
Today I met with a nutritionist. Dr. E suggested it be the next step, since the frequency of purging has gone down, along with the urge. My older sister Maya asked to accompany me. My parents have always viewed her as the fragile, over-emotional daughter, while I was thought to be more stable and calloused. Maya, too, had problems with throwing up at my age, but never sought help. I admire her for being able to get through it on her own, something I could not do. Despite the dichotomous character roles assigned by our parents, I believe she is much stronger than I am, although she says she wishes she would have spoken up and gotten help like me.
The nutritionist gave me a couple of tips on how to eat healthy and to avoid food deficits because they trigger binges, which are followed by purges. She had a bunch of plastic food to help visually represent meal portion sizes. I’m pretty sure they were from those kid kitchen sets, so I couldn’t really take her seriously.

Jan 2, 2010
Since the cycle was broken, it really hasn’t been as hard to keep it that way. I’ve heard the first three days of being cut off from an addiction are the hardest, and then it slowly gets easier. As horrible as panic attacks are, they may have been just enough of a distraction to get over that initial three day roadblock, a blessing in disguise. I haven’t thrown up once since my last two entries, which may be the longest I’ve gone since the cycle began in seventh grade.

Jan 6, 2010
I have just finished my final scheduled therapy session. Dr. E agrees that I’m strong enough to no longer need sessions on a regular basis. Now that I’m not throwing up anymore or frightened with panic, we’ve honestly ran out of things to talk about. I never thought there would be such an abrupt end to such a perpetuated problem. The Prozac has helped with more than just controlling the cycle and panic attacks; I also feel less like a robot and more like a human being. I feel it has almost been too easy.
So, I guess this means bye bye journal. You’ll be going into the box in the garage along with the rest of them. You may have served your purpose these past couple of months, but now that my journey is ending I prefer to keep you with the rest, where I don’t have to see or think about these things anymore.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

TODAY:

Flipping through that journal so many years later fills me with mixed emotions. It brings me back to a time I hate to remember, but a time that is still relevant to me today. I wish I could say that hiding the journal meant closing the door to these problems, but over the years I’ve learned that it doesn’t. All my former struggles with the cycle creep up from off those pages, slither under doorways and around corners, then silently make their way up my unsuspecting body and into my head. I can go weeks, or even months feeling carefree, and then an urge will hit me, the same urge that has always hit me.
I would be lying if I said I could always suppress the urge to throw up again. I have had occasional relapses within the past years, though never as serious or prolonged as the original problem. I do still feel like an addict. As the years progress, I become more confident in my belief that bulimia is a real addiction.
When the urge surfaces, just as in the past, a switch is flipped in my mind that is much more difficult to turn off than to leave on. If left on, I stop thinking clearly. I get anxious and aggravated with the people around me. All I want to do is follow the same cycle I’ve grown accustomed to, and then the urge, with all the negative passion it brings, will go away. First, I eat. A lot. Then, with two fingers, I unearth the lowermost point of my emotions, as I reach the pit of my stomach. There, I find shame wearing relief’s disguise.
Thankfully, I usually do manage to switch off the urge when it first surfaces. Although, this isn’t quite as satisfying as it may sound. It leaves me with somewhat of an empty feeling that must slowly be forgotten throughout the course of the day. This feeling, however, pales in comparison to the awful feeling that overcomes me after a purge.
For every urge I’m not able to overcome, I tell myself that it will be the last time. I come to this false conclusion where I am certain I’ll remember how horrible that awful post-purge feeling is, and that I’ll never want to endure the same guilt again. The guilt of being too weak and hurting my body. The guilt of making a mess and wasting food. There is enough uncontrollable guilt in the world, and by relieving my urge, I add to the pool.
I used to not understand what perpetuated the cycle. The yearning to be thin would never be satisfied by this habit, which was something I learned soon after it began. There was instead something else, a different driving force only wearing the mask of addiction, which strongly persisted to be met. Addiction starts as a means to catch a high, but over time becomes the only feasible method of coping with life. The neurosis that built around the habit acted as a distraction from dealing with thoughts and emotions I felt powerless to. Addiction stands in for control, but it is nothing more than an illusion.
Throughout the years, the panic attacks have mostly retreated, along with my dependence on the little white serotonin boosting capsules of Prozac. It’s been a slow process, but I’ve been able to better accept emotions of all kinds as they initially arise. With a passion for love comes the pain of disappointment, and the thrill of risks brings the anxiety of failure, but in the end, living life makes much more sense to me in the context of emotion rather than the indifference I had once chosen.
Even with all the positive changes, I know I still have a lot of growing to do. I’m confident that, while I don’t think the urges will ever fully dissipate, they will continue to fade away and become easier to recognize and deal with as I become older and wiser. I am confident that one day I will be able to embrace my emotions fully instead of feeling the need to control them, or hide them behind a mask of binging and purging. I am confident that one day, opening the old journals won’t be such a dreaded experience. But, until that day, they will remain in that box.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

My parents got divorced when I was 6 and although I don’t remember many details of the divorce itself, my parents do not have a good relationship now which causes much strain on me and my mom especially. From when I was 6 until my freshman year of high school, I split my time between living with my mom and dad, seeing my mom usually 4 of the 7 days of the week. However, my dad struggles with OCD, does not easily understand social cues, and is incredibly stubborn; this led to constant fighting between us, so much so to the point where I would become incredibly miserable when I would have to stay over at his apartment. At the height of our fighting when I was in 8th grade, I saw a psychiatrist to see if I had depression, given I thought that I showed many of the common signs and felt constantly weighed down by my situation. I never actually ended up taking medication, but my turbulent relationship with my dad was really hard for me to cope with.
In the very beginning of my freshman year of high school, I finally made the choice to stop living with my dad and moved in with my mom full time. I became so much happier at home, even though I felt guilty and confused about what to do with the relationship with my dad. I was in a really manipulative friend group for this year of high school, one that experimented with drugs and alcohol (which I personally chose to not try) and made me play babysitter when they needed someone to take care of them during and after. Lowering my self-esteem and confidence, I lost my desire for good grades, leaving my grades to plummet drastically for the majority of freshman year. Needless to say, freshman year was a mess for a lot of different reasons.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

Freshman year, I turned to my best friends from sleep away camp to vent to and turn to for help throughout these issues, helping me but still not fixing the problems that were plaguing my life.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

However, I applied to and got accepted to study abroad in Israel for the spring semester of my sophomore year, which turned my entire life around. I instantly fell in love with Israel itself, which led me to create my desire to serve in the Israel Defense Forces after college. I discovered myself, figured out what I like and who I want to be, made the absolute best friends of my life, and fell in love. Israel saved me, and since then, my work ethic and personal life have been incredibly fulfilled and meaningful.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

The situation with my dad has been very complicated recently because he is refusing to help pay for me to go to college, and thus my mom is currently taking him to court in a messy and drawn-out case. On one hand, I am incredibly happy living with my mom and stepdad and sister (my mom and I are very close) but also, I feel guilty not having a real relationship with my dad. Yet, him being financially negligent in my upbringing and causing incredible stress for my mom leaves me confused and undecided as to how I feel about him and what I want for the future of our relationship. However, senior year has been absolutely incredible, and I’ve solidified friendships with really amazing people from home that I plan on keeping into next year when I attend Bard College in New York (hopefully Brandeis University if I’m lucky enough to get off the wait-list). Life’s good!

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

Definitely make sure that you have a strong support system like true, genuine friends that care about your well-being. I turn to my friends for everything. Even if you don’t have particularly strong friendships with anything, even knowing that you have the option to turn to others for help is really important to remember.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

I was a victim of sexual abuse for 7 years, beginning at the age of 6. My abuser would often threaten my life and tell me he could get away with murder if he had to, to keep me quiet. After he left my family behind, I found out he had molested another girl, 6 years old – the same as myself when he first got his hands on me. I knew I had to come forward and tell me story, despite fearing for my life.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

I saw a therapist through a childrens’ advocate agency. I hated going, and I hated talking about what happened to me, because for my entire life, I lived like that portion of my childhood didn’t exist.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

I began to do a type of therapy called EMDR roughly 8 months after starting therapy. It helps the mind to process traumatic memories from the short term memory to the long term, and to help you process them and move past the trauma. At first I thought it was ridiculous and I was still so reluctant to recall anything willingly, but looking back, I think it really helped me to gain strength and move on with my life. I no longer live in fear day to day.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

I’m a very successful nurse in a loving relationship. I’ve never been happier, I’m no longer afraid, and I’ve moved past being a victim to just being me. My past no longer defines me.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

It’s never going to be easy. Getting help is not easy, and talking about what happened is never easy – but you have to do it, no matter how long it takes. That’s the only way to gain control of your life.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

My brother was born with Tourette’s syndrome. Tourette’s syndrome is a neurological disorder causing repetitive, stereotyped, involuntary movements and vocalizations, also called tics. This causes my brother, Max, to have uncontrollable outbursts and act impulsively. In addition to the Tourette’s, Max struggled with anger which was never treated or taken seriously. This led to the event that changed my life. One day Max came storming into the living room yelling at me for eating a piece of his candy. I’ll admit it now, I had taken a single ‘fun sized’ piece of candy from his stash. How he noticed? I would never know, but now it was time to deny, deny, deny. It started with yelling and hitting; next thing you know he tackled me to the floor. I hit my head hard. Nothing felt normal, but it was a school night so my parents that I was playing sick and trying to get out of tomorrow’s math test.
The next day at school was horrible: the loud noise, the bright lights, reading, taking notes, all of it. After school, I went to the doctors and found out that I had mild concussion. The word “mild” is typically used in salsa, there is Mild, Medium, and Hot. When it comes to the brain any damage is bad, there is no mild, medium, it’s all just bad. The damage hurts the brain cells on the side that was hit and it all depends on the person, the area that was hit, and many other factors, determine length of recovery. I had hit the back right side but when you hit one side, it bounces back to the side opposite. In addition to hitting the back right, I also hit the front left side of my brain. So when my mother and I heard the word ‘”mild” we thought there was very little damage and I would recover in no time. Unfortunately, we were mistaken and this has changed everything.
I went to a neurologist and he ran tests to examine what part of my brain was impacted. Memorization, puzzles, reflexes; test after test. After three weeks of testing, I finally found out what happened to my brain. I suffered from post concussive syndrome and new learning disabilities as well: a reading comprehension disorder, ADHD, and dyslexia with extreme anxiety and depression. I was in shock that a small head injury could impact my life so drastically.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

I eventually received medicine to aid my focus in school and I have learned to try to talk about my concerns to further lessen worries. Lastly, I have my amazing family and friends to support me along the way. As much help as I got, however, I still struggled with my grades. It was heartbreaking because no matter how hard I tried, I never seemed to understand as easily as before.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

By the end of my junior year everything started to look up. I started to get my friends back, I started to eat healthier, I exercised more, and my grades began to go up. I can only hope that it’ll stay this way and that I will have a bright future ahead of me.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

I am currently 2 weeks away from graduating high school and my senior year was better than I could have ever expected. I was on the varsity swim team and beat all of my times, I earned straight A’s, and applied to college. I am happy to report that I’ll be attending the University of Delaware, a school that I never thought I would get into. I am extremely proud of all of my accomplishments throughout the year and look forward to more in the near future. Despite my setbacks and needing to learn how to learn again, I now know that it’s fundamental to later success.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

Don’t be afraid to reach out for help. If you feel as though something is wrong, then act on it because it’s not going to get better with time. I know this is cliche, but it is something that people take for granted. Family and friends will always be there to support you and help you through hard times.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

#JK Story – I have struggled with fitting in with people around me, due to my parents cultural mindset. That has left me feeling different and confused about what to do, and what I was allowed to do.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

There wasn’t really much support I could get on this, I had learned to compromise and more so just go with what was happening.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

I am almost done with high school, and planning to go abroad for College this fall.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

It’s hard being in between two different cultures and fitting in, one from where your parents have grown up in and have the mindset of. And the other where you, grow up and are surrounded in. It feels as if at times you have to have multiple different personalities for people to be happy and for you to maintain relationships.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

I have struggled with trying to live up to many societal norms/pressures while still staying sane. For example, I had always felt pressure to take the hardest classes in school to impress other people. I was never really happy with my grades even when they were good. Also, I sometimes found myself not wanting to speak my mind because I was afraid of what others may think of me.

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

When I was getting ready to enter my junior year of high school, I told myself I was only going to worry about myself. Fortunately, that is exactly what I did. Knowing this was going to be an especially important academic year for me, I took classes I know I could do well in, while still challenging myself. I found myself to be a lot happier as I relieved myself of many of the unnecessary stresses weighing me down. I also started to really be myself around others, in other words, I was no longer afraid to express myself and true thoughts.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

For those having a tough time, I’d say just stay true to yourself. I have realized that staying true to yourself is one of the most important things in life. You should always do what you feel is right and never be afraid to be yourself. Nobody else is living your life so why should they chose how you live it? I wish someone had told me those exact words when I was younger. Everyone is self-conscious to an extent but no-one should ever not feel comfortable with themselves because of who they are.

What have you struggled with? When did it become too much?

PTSD after sexual assault and 27 surgeries. I grew up thinking an “illness” was either fever or croup. Illness was a stuffy nose — a sick-day, an excuse to miss a day of school. At 18 years old, “illness” took on an entirely different meaning. Illness meant waking up from a coma, learning that my stomach exploded, I had no digestive system and I was to be stabilized with IV nutrition until surgeons could figure out how to put me back together again. Illness meant a life forever out of my control and a body I didn’t recognize. My body never went back to normal. With no other alternative, I learned how to accommodate it and embrace it for the amazing things its extraordinary resilience.

I was shocked and saddened that I could never get my old, unwounded body back. But what really startled me was realizing what had happened to my mind.

PTSD. I had never heard those letters put together before. I knew what “trauma” was, but I didn’t know it could cause so much internal dis-ease and dis-order — illness that I couldn’t see.

But that was the biggest shock to me — waking up in a new body and a new mind, troubled by Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

What kind of support did you get at first? Did it work?

The PTSD term for finding healthy coping skills is “self-soothing.” To live a healthy thriving life, I’ve had to befriend my past, embrace my experience, and express what had happened to me. I needed to tell my story in order to heal. But first, I had to hear my story for myself, rather than avoid it.. Once I learned how to hear my own heart-shattering story, and feel the pain, the frustration, the anger, and ultimately, the gratitude, I was able to speak to it. I was able to gently teach myself how to live in the present moment rather than in the world of the trauma.

Healing didn’t come all at once. Every day I tried to face a memory a bit more. I called it “dipping my toes” in my trauma. Finally, I could put words to my grief. I was able to write, “I am hurting.”

Were there any turning points where things really started to change for the better?

As soon as I was able to write words like “sadness” and “pain”, I allowed myself to explore them. Soon, I couldn’t stop the words that flowed out of me. My memories started to empower me, and I wrote with feverish purpose.

I started to journal compulsively for hours as every memory appeared in my mind. Soon, the words couldn’t do justice to my traumatic experience – I needed a bigger container. I turned to art, drawing, scribbling. I filled pages with teardrops, lightening bolts and broken hearts. For me, creativity became a lifeline – a release. It was a way to express things that were too overwhelming for words. Expression was my way of self-soothing.

Once expression helped me face my own story, I was able to share it. And the day I first shared my story with someone else, I realized I wasn’t alone. There were others that had been through trauma and life-shattering events. And there were also people who had been through the twists and turns of every day life. Being able to share my story emboldened me with a newfound strength and the knowledge that terrible things happen, and if other people can bounce back, then so can I.

What’s your life like now? What have you been able to accomplish, and what are you working towards?

My perspective on illness has changed since my days of “croup”, and it’s also changed since my last surgical intervention. I’ve learned that illness isn’t always in the physical scars. I’ve learned that some wounds aren’t visible, and some wounds even we don’t know we have, until we choose to take care of them. But I’ve also learned that I’m resilient, strong, broken and put together again, differently, yet even more beautiful – like a mosaic. I wrote a one woman musical about my life, Gutless & Grateful, that Ive been touring across the country as a mental health and sexual assault awareness program for colleges. As a survivor and “thriver” of nearly 30 surgeries, a coma, and a decade of medical trauma, I have been challenged with moments of extreme difficulty. But as an artist, newlywed, actress, 28-year old college student and overall lover of life, I’ve learned so much from this beautiful detour.

What would you say to people who are having a tough time? What’s helped you that you wish you had known earlier

You don’t know what you’re capable of until you’re tested, so just trust that you are capable of anything and you’ll get through. It can get better.