For those of you who may have known me for the past couple of years, there was a time when I didn't love myself. It's true. The girl who jumps in front of every available camera and who may keep every selfie she has of herself because she believes that she looks amazing in all of them--that girl used to not love herself. I used to hide from the camera, struggling with body issues and identity issues. I used to not feel so comfortable with myself, and the journey to love and self-acceptance has been a long one.

When I was four, I used to attend this daycare center down the road from me. I hated it. Every day, I was placed with the big kids, the four to eight year old group, and they would pick on me. I was constantly attacked and called names. One time, these boys thought it was cute to put snot on my milk carton. When I told one of the ladies in charge, she accused me of lying and told me to sit down and be quiet. Events like these went on for what felt like forever, but it was only a year. For years after this, I struggled with being okay with myself: being told that my skin was ugly, my hair was too short/nappy, I was too skinny. I took everyone's comments on my body as constructive criticism--believing that these were the things that I had to do to better myself and eventually like myself. And so I did those things. I bleached my skin, relaxed my hair, ate more to satisfy everyone, and convinced myself that the more I did those things the more I would be accepted.

The sad thing is that all of these things happened before I was 10 years old. Around 11, when I hit puberty, it became much worse. I got boobs, and with boobs comes more attention from boys. Although I initially thought that boobs were the way to secure a boyfriend, I later learned that any boys that start paying attention to you when you have boobs, probably aren't the kind of boys that you want. I learned this lesson much later than I care to admit.

The first boyfriend that I ever had I didn't want. I dated him because this girl told me that I should. Like I said earlier, I was convinced that everyone knew what was best for me, except for me. I dated him and was completely uncomfortable with the entire thing, believing that this was how real relationships worked. I was wrong. The next boyfriend I had was actually the first one that I wanted, but that didn't mean that everything was better.

In almost every relationship I was in, I changed myself. If a guy called me too smart, I dumbed myself down. If a guy said I spoke "too black," I sharpened the endings of my words. If a guy said that he liked certain outfits, I would wear more of the same outfit. If he wanted me to be more "modest," I covered up. I did everything I could to please everyone around me, but I never stopped to please myself.

I remember being around fourteen or fifteen, and I wouldn't even look at myself in the mirror. I hated my face. It was too fat. My forehead was too big. My lips were too big. My nose looked weird. I had stretch marks which must mean I was fat although I was only a size four (14 year old me would hurt herself if she knew what size 21 year old me would turn out to be). I hated myself. I hated the way I looked. I hated being alone, and I think that this was the thing that influenced many of my bad decisions. I hated being alone.

I dated guys non-stop from when I was 13 to about 17, many of whom I probably shouldn't have touched with a ten foot pole, but I did it because it was better than being alone. I think my biggest fear of being alone was facing who I was. Being alone with myself and having to reckon with the fact that I tried being everything to everybody made me realize that I forgot who I was to myself. I played so many roles that I couldn't even realize which ones are authentic.

Slowly, I started to undo all of the "constructive criticism" that I learned at an early age. I stopped bleaching my skin. I learned that I will never have an even, flawless skin tone and I'm learning to be okay with that. I now embrace sitting in the sun over the summer and soaking up its rays and the beautiful dark tan that's left. I stopped relaxing my hair. I transitioned to natural hair at the ripe age of 16 in the face of much hatred towards my decision. Even after I fully transitioned to natural hair, I still slipped up--straightening my hair whenever someone called it nappy or never wearing an afro because I was afraid that people would call me ugly. I even took up healthy eating habits, dropping the liter of soda a day and the McDonalds for copious amounts of water and real food. I was learning to take care of my body.

A few years ago, I took Tyra Bank's advice that she gave on her talk show and looked in the mirror and chose one thing that I liked about myself. Surprisingly, I chose my really weird nose. Over time, I became more and more okay with the way I looked in pictures. Instead of wincing whenever other people showed me the pictures they took of me, I chose one thing that looked good in it. Maybe my hair was on point. Maybe I had a pretty smile or my eyes look beautiful. Maybe my dimples were showing or my lips were perfect. Maybe I was learning to reverse the damage that society inflicted upon my young black female brain.

I'm still learning how to take care of my mind. I'm still learning how to be okay with the times that I attacked my body with chemicals. I'm learning to be okay with the bad decisions that I made years ago. I'm learning to be okay with the way I look and the way I act. I'm learning to be alone with myself and enjoy my own company. I'm learning to love and accept me for everything I am.This is a journey that I've been on for years now, and there have been a lot of wrong turns along the way, but my goal is progress not perfection. I've progressed so much from the girl I was years ago, and I still have so much more to learn and love about myself.