Essay on Changes That Happened To Me During The Last Year
She was thin. Rawboned. What most everyone around her failed to realize was that her slender figure was a reflection of far more about her than just her physical health. It was a reflection of her mental health. It was a reflection of her pain. She had bronze, olive-tinted skin. She was not sun-kissed. It was natural. Her eyes were bigger and bluer than the ocean she visited with her family as a little girl. That was her balance. Perhaps these characteristics are responsible for everyone's insanely misunderstood blindness. Her charisma was gone.
During her sixteenth year, a realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of herself was the beautiful outcome of the challenges thrown at her and the exceptionally hard times she was forced to face. Turning sixteen introduced the start of her sophomore year—she was the oldest of her high school class—and life was good. The passing of her great-grandmother, who raised her, was the understandable launching of a downright rotten year. She mourned over the loss of her protector’s beautiful, pure soul.
This caused her severe, utter depression. Uninhibitedness. Hunger. Her anxiety was at its pinnacle. It was a relationship much more intimate than a high school student has with his or her best friend from grade school, a small boy has with his imaginary friend, or even one that a mother has with her baby. She went by Nanny.
Nanny had the softest, most wrinkled skin. She was the donor of the exquisite blue eyes. As if the grief from her grandmother’s passing was not enough to bear, the girl dealt with the nearly unbearable struggle of being a victim of abuse from two men, whom at the time, she adored—a boyfriend and a parent with whom she had always shared a distant relationship. Of course, this abuse was something she had become immune to. She was brainwashed. Desperate.
The struggles she experienced with her boyfriend and her father never seemed unbearable until this year. It got worse. She was at a point when she felt that she had no one.
An exhausted girl with an aching heart, she yearned for the filling of the empty void. She struggled with the pain and misery that heartbreak trucks. She longed for his soft touch—she saw that big, dorky smirk in everyone she met. Consequently, she had become so insusceptible to his big brown eyes, she had forgotten sky-colored, hazel ones existed. She ached for his apology; then, she became sorry, as she had so been taught. Minutes felt like hours, and days felt like weeks. She became better at covering her feelings, and eventually, her bruises and her scars. Her natural beauty was covered with a dark cloud of stress-derived acne and dreadful patches. The emotional aspect of it was far worse than the physical—she had become so immune to his angry hand; besides, it was nothing a mask of cheap makeup could not fix.
Beyond losing her Nanny and the issues with her boyfriend, home did not help. Her safe place was no longer safe—she hid in her small room from a monster. She would watch him try to fill what he was missing with shots of whiskey. She watched her mother lose herself day by day. She watched her father hit her mom. She inherited his method of coping with anger. Her mother’s eyes began to darken. This was the only noticeable resemblance between her and her mother.
One night she took seventeen pills to end the pain. This was the call for help. Then, came the ultimately heartbreaking, yet passionate and beautiful beginning of her healing process. After months of misery, the sweet girl she had always been wanting, quit loving, and then quit caring. The result of her self neglect and carelessness led to insufficient sleep and eating, failing grades, insecurity, and overall exhaustion because her heart was broken and her soul was drained.
As she struggled, she learned. She learned that other people hurt. It never got easier; however, she was thankful for the experience because of the strength she deservingly earned. She learned to love her flaws. She started with herself. She became both mentally and physically healthy, and eventually, she was healed. She made a commitment to love herself the most before she tried to give it to two men, one being her own father—neither of whom slightly deserved it. She gave her love to a young boy incapable of loving himself, and she looked for love from a man incapable of giving it to her, who instead, used his power against her absolute admiration of him. The girl looked for love from a man incapable of teaching healthy relationships, incapable of understanding depression, and essentially, incapable of loving and raising his daughter. She made a commitment that she would never abandon her own wants, nor her needs. She promised herself that.
Last week began the start of my junior year of high school and my seventeenth year. Working on myself is what I did to get to this beautiful position I am currently, and thankfully in. I have overcome obstacles, that at one point, nearly almost and literally killed me. My last year broke me; however, it made me so much stronger for the many more troubles I am unfortunately destined to face in this life. Where I will go and I will become is a mystery, because the rest of my story is unwritten. I pray for my grandmother every night before my head hits my pillow, and I distanced myself completely from the boy that broke my heart. Also, I have reconnected with my father to mend our relationship. I will never hesitate to share my story because this strength I have earned is the best kind to have. It is the best medicine. If this year has not taught me anything, it has shown me that strength is the best characteristic one could have. It was a convivial change. I am grateful for that.