Nostalgia and Discontent

I have always seemed discontented. I rushed around as a little girl, in frilly pink dresses, dreaming about the day I would start high school. I would dreamily hold hands with my pretend "boyfriend" and long for my first kiss. As a five, six, seven, eight year old with an active imagination; I would practice graduating high school and waltz down the wedding aisle.

As my senior year continues to unfold, I find myself wanting, more than anything, to be that bright-eyed baby girl again. Oh how I wish I could stop the incessant ticking of my life clock. Children spend so long trying to grow up, sometimes they forget to be kids for a little while. Now, I find myself regressing into childish behaviors: watching Disney movies, sleeping with a night light, and cuddling with my favorite stuffed animal. It's exciting to ponder the possibilities of my future, but I still find myself wanting to just freeze today.

If I could go back and tell my childish self any piece of advice, it would be this: live in the moment. Enjoy each day as it comes. Cherish the bedtime stories momma reads to you every night. Rejoice in the feeling of the wind in your hair as you swing higher and higher on a swing set. Keep playing pretend for as long as you can, because one day, your imagination simply runs out. Remember to count your blessings each time your parents dress you up for church and parade you around like a porcelain china doll. Never fail to embrace your youth.

Today, I will allow myself the freedom to pursue the road of nostalgia. I will remember. Even though I cannot permanently stop time, I will enjoy the beauty of yesterday. My senior year may be constantly moving forward, I will allow myself to sneak quick glimpses backwards whenever I feel the urge to remember the days where life was simple, and I was carefree.

Strong.

Strong. To me, this simple word is more than just five characters. In my life, “strong” is a state of mind, an impetus to keep moving forward even when everything seems to fall apart.

I was thirteen years old when my friend Buli Mia corrupted me. She became essential to my identity, an unrelenting force. Buli whispered lies of inadequacy into my heart and gripped my soul with her iron fist. Pretty soon, she invited Ana Rexia to assist in her conquest. Every aspect of my life was dictated by their desires. Calories were our worst enemy, even more so than mirrors.

Years later, I awoke pale and fragile. My skin was sallow and my heart broken. Kicking and screaming, my loving mother dragged me to the doctor, whom she hoped would send me a wake up call. I was told I would die if Ana and Buli did not leave me alone. The weight of my friends’ destruction hit me like a tidal wave. I realized just how broken and lost I truly had become. I was a  broken, beautiful soul.

Miserable and alone, I willed my friends to leave me alone. I could not bear the weight of their subtle ploys any longer. I could not face my sin with a smile. Curled in a fetal position on my massive bed, feeling my protruding bones, I made a decision. I would no longer let Ana and Buli into my life. I would try my hardest to shut out their sweet whispers of desire. I would stand firmly in the truths of who I am, and refuse to stop fighting until I had gained every ounce of my broken identity back. I would never let the lies of others dictate whom I had become.

Now, I am determined to never allow these enemies into my life. Every day is a struggle, every meal a miracle. But I will celebrate each individual triumph. I have “strong” permanently inked into my skin as a representation of what I have overcome. Whenever obstacles stand in my way, I remember my resolution made in the wake of my sinful self. I will stand strong, suck the marrow out of life, and allow freedom access into my soul. I will win.