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My entire life, I’ve been different. I was born into an upper-middle class family, in a predominately white city. My family was one of the only biracial families in our whole town, and maybe the only biracial family with money. I was always the odd one out. I was a chubby, biracial girl who could somehow afford to be at a country club. While I managed to have friends, and hardly anyone was outwardly rude, I knew that my appearance contributed to my unpopularity.

In additional to all of this, I was diagnosed with Lupus at the age of twelve. So then I became the fat black girl with an invisible chronic disease. Everything went downhill from there.

I was diagnosed with depression, as well as social anxiety disorder. I began self-harming during my freshman year of high school, and had strong thoughts of suicide for almost three years. I stopped trying in school because I knew that at any point I could snap and kill myself, so what was the point?

"It's easy to hate yourself, I think. It's easy to point out flaws and to see what's ugly about yourself, and find a million different reasons as to why you're not good enough. The hard part is loving yourself."
Then I met my first boyfriend, and it seemed like my life was finally turning around. Of course, it wasn't, and we broke up eventually. It absolutely destroyed me, and I realized that instead of actually fixing myself and becoming a happy person, I let a boy define me, and therefore absolutely break me. After our breakup, I began developing eating disorders, alternating between starving myself for days at a time, and then binge eating so much food that I locked myself in my bathroom for 20-30 minutes at a time.

Now at twenty years old, I am still struggling with the same things I have since age twelve, but for the first time, I am getting help. I found the courage to tell my parents what has been going on, and am making an effort to live a truly healthy lifestyle. I still feel horrible about myself all the time, but I know the true struggle hasn't even begun.

It's easy to hate yourself, I think. It's easy to point out flaws and to see what's ugly about yourself, and find a million different reasons as to why you're not good enough. The hard part is loving yourself. I know with absolute certainty that this journey will be the hardest thing I've ever done, but for the first time in my life, I'm ready.