The Past. The Present. The Future.

When I left eating disorder treatment, I knew I wanted to be a therapist. At first, I was ashamed to share this desire with anyone. Even though I knew the journey to become a surgeon (my original plan) was no longer in line with the balanced life in which I am committed to live, part of me was scared to let go because I had attached so much of my worth to that goal. Another part of me feared judgement. I viewed becoming a therapist as cliché, and I worried that people would think that I merely want to be a therapist for my own personal gain – to figure out my own issues or to deny my own struggles by focusing on other people. However, as a gained self-confidence and let go of what other people think, I began embracing my story and my desire to become a therapist.

Currently I am applying to social work and clinical psychology (MFT) graduate programs. Writing my personal statements has encouraged me to reflect on the past, evaluate the present, and plan for the future. I want to share short excerpts of my personal statement with you because I believe it fully integrates how the past and present come together to influence my decision to become a therapist. Enjoy!

From the time I could talk, I always said I was going to be a doctor, a pediatric surgeon to be precise. At Baylor, I dove head first into intense pre-medical coursework and quickly got involved in every campus organization and volunteer opportunity I could get my hands on to appear the best candidate for medical school. From the outside looking in, I was the ideal candidate. I maintained straight A’s, held leadership positions in campus clubs, volunteered at a local hospital, and actively participated in my sorority. It seemed like I had it all together. However, on the inside, I was miserable. The pressure to present as perfect to the world morphed into an eating disorder that was literally killing me. Before I knew it, I had abandoned everything I value for a secret life riddled with lies stemming from the shame that I could not meet the absurdly high expectations I set for myself.

Coming to the realization that this lifestyle was unfulfilling, not to mention unsustainable, I decided to take a leap of faith and admitted myself to eating disorder treatment. As I began forming my new identity as a woman of integrity, strength, and compassion, I came to realize that I want to be a therapist and a source of hope for women struggling to fight the prejudices that stand against them.

… As a future therapist, I seek to advocate for and promote social justice. More specifically, I want to spark change in the way society views and treats women, and I believe that change starts with how women view and treat themselves. Years ago, I entered into an abusive relationship. It was during that toxic relationship that I first internalized the voice that told me I was worthless and should be ashamed of being a woman. For years, I remained silent because I believed I deserved the pain he caused me. Being an abuse survivor, it is my hope that I can partner with teens and young women who feel similar shame around their bodies and gender identity in order to help them discover their true worth in the world.

… I am passionate about working with teens because it is a such critical time for making important life decisions and identity formation. Adults often discredit teenage girl’s thoughts, feelings, and struggles. I aspire to advocate for young women’s wishes and needs, believing in them so they can believe in themselves. When I was experiencing so much pain because of my abusive relationship, I wish I had felt comfortable enough to confide in someone who would have advocated for my needs. I hope to be that person for young women in the future.

… Taking pride in my story instead of hiding in the disgrace of my so-called “failures”, I now live with dignity and integrity. I respect the progress I have made and hold space for the challenges I have yet to conquer, allowing for future growth. As a therapist, I will treat my clients with the same dignity and respect to inspire them to overcome the obstacles that stand in the path of realizing their dreams and aspirations.  

I am so excited to take the next step in my journey to become a therapist, and I can’t wait until my dreams become my reality!

From Shame to Strength.

Scars. We all have them.
I have one on my lip where at 4yrs old my tooth cut through the skin when I slipped in the grocery store. Another one under my nose where my siblings pushed me down our driveway when I was little. And yet another where a hair straightener burned my leg in the freshman dorms. Life is full of bumps and bruises, and sometimes they make for good memories to reminisce on during the holidays.

But I also have scars that come from painful memories. Scars no one could see--scars of the heart. These invisible scars are the ones that cut the deepest.

When I began unpacking the root issues of my eating disorder, the emotions of painful experiences flooded over me. Without my usual method of coping (i.e. using my eating disorder), I turned to self-harm. At the time, I didn't understand what was happening. Why was I blatantly inflicting pain on myself when I've learned so much about showing myself compassion? Why was I struggling to apply this principle when I felt overwhelmed with shame and guilt?

I've come to realize self-harm was a way to make sense of how I had been hurt. For me, it acted as a physical representation of the scars that no one could see. But using self-harm to understand my pain didn't solve the problem. In fact, it merely added to the shame I already felt. Shame for having visible scars on top of the shame from invisible scars.

The real work requires seeing strength in places where I previously saw weakness. This shift in perspective opens the door for me to show compassion to that girl who was feeling so much hurt for so long while pushing through each day with a smile on her face. That, my friends, takes an incredible amount of strength and a heaping pile of resilience. And so, by changing my viewpoint from shame to strength, I become empowered by my story.

In the same light, I have the power to change how I view my self-harm scars. The scars don't have to be a place of shame. They are simply part of my story. The story of fighting so desperately to gain a healthy life. Of overcoming challenges many people will never understand. Of finding joy in the journey despite the cuts and scars along the way.

A story of strength. A story of resilience.

***Below is a website with resources if you or a loved one is struggling with self-harm. Additionally, feel free to message me, and I will do my best to listen and point you in the right direction to get the help you need***

https://twloha.com/find-help/help-by-topic/self-injury/

Stakes are Low

Friday I left my last class holding my head high because I can now say that I’ve finished an entire year of college while keeping my sanity! This is something I have never done before. Honestly, it is something that I doubted I could ever do. So what changed? How was I able to successfully finish my junior year of college (round 2)?

Well, so much has changed, but I can narrow it down to one thing: compassion.

See, back a few years ago, I set the highest expectation for myself: perfection. But the problem with perfection is that it doesn’t exist. There is always another hoop to jump through, another rung on the ladder to climb. But, I was determined. I would do everything possible to reach that perfect ideal I had in my head. I gotta say, I got pretty close—at least from the outside looking in. However, the drive for perfection tore me to pieces. I always felt like a failure. If I wasn’t perfect in every little thing I would beat myself up, physically through my eating disorder and mentally through all the lies I told myself about how I was such a failure. The joy in any success was tainted by the intense pressure of the next task. In the end, those high expectations knocked me off my feet.

But I’ve grown, and I’ve changed my motto. “Stakes are low”. Whether it’s in preparation for a final or getting ready for a Theta formal that anticipatory anxiety creeps in. I fight the battle with perfection. What if I screw up? What if I don’t make an A? What if I embarrass myself? In these moments, I remind myself, “stakes are low”. I give myself compassion, the space to mess up and still be ok. Because even if I fail my final or make a total ass of myself, I’m still me. Those events, those high expectations I put on myself to try to make sure I end up a success, don’t have to define me. In the end, my achievements and the way people view me don’t really matter. My true friends and family don’t love me because I make straight A’s or because I’m the perfect sorority girl. They love me because I am a loyal friend, because I care deeply, because I am funny. And ultimately, they love me just because I am me. Whether I end up a doctor, a therapist, or jobless. Whether I am popular or an outsider. Whether I have a 6 pack or squish rolls. Their love for me doesn’t change. And most importantly, God’s love for me doesn’t change.

I am no longer crushed by the pressure of perfection. I am free to live, to make mistakes, to learn from them. I am free to just be—to relax and put my worries aside. Because stakes are low NOT high. Part of me wishes I could go back and tell my old self that, but a larger part of me knows I needed to go through those times to get to where I am now: living a life of self-compassion. So instead, I will share with all you who also struggle with the desire to be perfect: STAKES ARE LOW.  

Let's Talk about It.

Let’s talk about it. When two people love each other very much…no wait. That’s not what I meant to talk about. 

Let’s try this again. Eating disorders. There we go. Let’s talk about eating disorders. 

• 30+ million people struggle with an eating disorder in America alone

• 42% of 1st-3rd grade girls want to be thinner

• 33% of teenage boys and girls use unhealthy weight control behaviors such as skipping meals, fasting, smoking cigarettes, vomiting, and taking laxatives

• Eating disorders have the highest mortality rate of any mental illness

• Every 62 minutes someone loses his/her life as a direct cause of an eating disorder

Did you actually read those statistics? If not, back up and look at them. They are shocking even for me who is far more educated in eating disorders than the average bear. These statistics are great for getting a panoramic view and seeing the pervasiveness of eating disorders. But, these numbers fall flat because people with eating disorders aren’t just numbers on a paper. They are mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, daughters, sons, babysitters, best friends, students, coworkers, and so on. They have a story, and each one is unique. 

The problem is so often our stories are silenced. Silenced out of fear. Silenced out of shame. Silenced due to the stigma and myths about eating disorders. Silenced because the words simply won’t come.

See, eating disorders thrive in silence. All the lies that feed the eating disorder are reinforced when we remain silent. Well, I’m done letting eating disorders thrive. Since starting my recovery, I choose to use my voice and talk about my eating disorder and eating disorders in general. And that’s exactly what I did about a month ago. I shared my journey with about 100ish college students. And this time the roles were reversed: I, my true self, was thriving while the shame, self-doubt, and fear have in my eating disorder was silenced. Although my voice quivered at times, I have never felt more empowered. It is my hope that when I spoke, I touched one person. That one person felt heard, understood, and loved.

And I will continue to talk. I will continue to share my story and be an advocate for eating disorder recovery. I will continue to open up about the things that are still hard and not let my eating disorder swallow me whole.

I will also listen. I will show compassion and help dismiss the shame, so that someone can open up and talk about their struggle. I will not simplify a person to a mere statistic, but I will see them as human. A person who is hurting, who is fighting, who is doing their very best, who…is just like me and just like you.