I woke up today. I hit the snooze button more than 10 times only to realize that I’m awake and just hitting it for no reason. I stared at my ceiling for 30 minutes listening to the alarm ring and my dog bark not knowing if I could get up. “Maybe if I call in today, I’ll just tell them I’m sick. I mean I am, just not in the way that they think.” I finally got out of bed. Every ounce of my body fought me wanting to lay back down. I’m tired. I shuffle into the bathroom. I don’t look in the mirror. I can’t. I already know what is waiting for me and i am not ready to face that just yet.
I was 15. I had just moved from an abusive home and was finally starting to experience what it was like to be a normal teenager. Most of my childhood, I was told that I was worthless, ugly, overweight and that I wasn’t worth anyone’s time. According to my abuser, I would never find anyone who would ever love someone like me. I don’t mention this information because I want someone to pity me, I mention it so that you have an idea of what life was becoming for me. I was happy. I was in a new home, I was making new friends and I had just started new classes at a nearby high school. Everything was falling into place.