Never in a billion years would I ever imagine that I'd have the amount of courage to write about my mental disorders. For so long, they were something that I so strongly wanted to sweep under the carpet as a means of avoiding judgment from my peers, family, and friends. Having mental disorders meant that I was insane. I saw no in-between. No gray area. Just crazy, or not crazy. That was how I saw life, and how I saw myself. I deemed myself to be crazy and in turn, let my life slip away from my hands.

My weight has always been something I’ve had trouble dealing with. I remember being as young as eight years old and looking in the mirror utterly horrified of the way that I looked. I often weighed myself, always feeling less than zero afterward.

As I grew, so did the scale. I became larger, and in turn, the self-hatred I had for myself grew bigger. I used to get made fun of in middle school for the way I jiggled when I walked. Kids suck.

I remember one time, a kid said he didn't like me because I had too much "blubber."

I went home that day and cried so hard I thought I was going to explode. I wanted to die. I was eleven years old.

Gym membership after gym membership, and still, no weight loss. I steadily grew larger and larger. By the time I was twelve, I had started wearing sweaters during the summer, so that no one could see my stretch marks or how loose my skin was. When I turned thirteen, I was 200 pounds. I would Google how much weight the average man was, to find out it was 185 pounds. I was bigger than a grown man at 13 years old.

I began to make myself throw up. I would throw up whenever I ate something. After throwing up, I'd cry for what felt like an eternity. I did this for nine months.

One thing that I've always been good at was school. Ever since elementary school, I was always ahead of my class as the kid who had all the answers. My family always told me how smart I was, and how I could be and do anything I wanted to. I took the selective enrollment test during 8th grade to get into a magnet high school in Chicago, and I scored in the highest percentile. I got into one of the top magnet schools in Chicago and enrolled as a freshman.

When I got to school, I found out that I wasn’t excelling in the way that I did in middle school. My peers were smarter than me. More hungry and competitive. They shined in every aspect of school, and I was intimidated. My first-year geometry class was a nightmare. I failed test after test not being able to keep up in the slightest. On my first report card, I got a D in geometry. A D.

The letter D was so immensely foreign to me. I felt claustrophobic and uneasy. I went to tutoring every day after school, and still, nothing. Towards the end of the school year, I was getting worse. I just couldn't comprehend what was happening. I couldn't. I ended up getting an F in geometry.

I failed.

The self-loathing I had for myself enabled me to cut off the friendships I had with people at school. I never went to after-school activities, social gatherings, dances, or anything. I lived a life of complete isolation because I felt as though I would be judged or ridiculed for the way I looked.

I started to become disconnected from my family. I didn't care about myself, so how could I care about my family. I often ignored them, treated them poorly, grew to be incredibly defensive, and didn't attend the social events that they threw. I became mad at my family for living their lives, something everyone should do. I felt so alone. My selfishness made me further dislike myself. How could I not want my family to thrive? I felt as though I didn’t warrant any love, and that I had nothing to offer society.

I told my parents and family about the way I felt, and I began seeing a psychiatrist, who diagnosed me with Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Depression. I started taking medication. It helped, but not a lot. I began talked with a therapist every week and talked about how I was feeling. That helped, but not a lot. I was still hurt. I still couldn’t come to terms with my disorder. I didn't know how.

I began to do things I enjoyed. During the summer, I watched a lot of movies, I listened to music, and I started reading. It helped me take my mind off the realities of life, and I felt somewhat lighter. Through my time by alone, I began to get to know myself, formally. I found out I love my family, I wanted to be a journalist when I grew up, I wanted to travel the world, I loved Coldplay a little too much, I loved Seth Rogen movies to an unhealthy degree, and I loved to laugh. Laughter was the medicine I needed.

I tried to smile every day.

I watched funny videos or hung around people who made me laugh and feel good about myself. I started to see that I was an individual when I was joyful. I began to hang around my family more, and be more active in my life. I started to live freely and be more accepting of who I was as a person. For once in a long time, I was happy.

I started to come to terms with my mental disorders. SO what if I had anxiety or depression. It doesn’t make me crazy. It doesn't make me weird. My complications aren't definitive of who I am, but I've embraced them. That's all I can do.

I learned how to manage my problems more efficiently not bring on the anxiety and or the depression. I took a class during the summer and gained a credit in geometry. I then started to compliment myself. I looked in the mirror and saw someone who was flawed but worth it.

The first time I told myself I was beautiful, I cried, because I believed it.

Now, I'm an 18-year-old woman who is still 200 pounds, and wouldn't have it any other way. I'm healthy, I'm happy, and I'm proud. I've come so far in my lifetime and am now a confident woman, and I know what I want. I love my family, my friends, and myself. I encourage any and everybody to love themselves unconditionally, because then and only then will you be able to live your best life.

Everybody has a purpose, and though, I still haven't found mine, I look forward to the day that I do.