This is what I have been trying to all semester because it seems as though it would be the easiest thing to do. Many of the things I have written so far have been autobiographical. Many have been hard to write because of this, of making myself vulnerable by reveling my inner thoughts and some things that I have been unwilling, even unable, to write these things up until now.

I hate this though, because of this fact. For the first time in my life I feel I am (almost) in control of my life and now by revealing this I am again, I feel, essentially putting my ass on the line. For years I was practically unable to look myself in the mirror because of how unhappy I was with myself. It’s not just a matter of not liking what you look like that makes someone do this. It’s an over all feeling of discontent or, in my case, depression. If you would have seen me then I don’t believe that you would have seen this side of me. Unfortunately, I’m all too good at hiding my real emotions, which is a really bad thing for anyone to do.

I don’t honestly believe that any of my friends really know the real me. I believe that we all have different characteristics of our personalities that show depending on who we are around. I believe this is especially true for me. I don’t think that any of my friends, or family for that matter, really know who I am. No one knows the complete me. I’m not so sure I know who I am. I think that I am just now really starting to realize who I am.

About a year and a half ago I was extremely depressed, though I don’t think that other people could really tell and I would never have admitted it if asked point-blank. I don’t know what, if anything, triggered the downward spiral I was in. It may have just been the final step of that cliff of depression I had been walking toward since my childhood.

In grade school and high school I was always the quiet girl in the corner or back of the classroom who never talked unless spoken to. I still am.

I went to a small Catholic grade school in a town where everyone knew everyone else. Although I knew everyone in the school, I never had more than a small handful of friends. Despite having these friends I never felt completely comfortable with anyone except maybe 2 or 3 people during all of grade school and high school. I’ve always felt like an outcast and have usually been treated like one as well.

Grade school was bad. High school was worse.

In grade school I was teased because of my weight and I the more I was teased, the more I would withdraw. By the time I got to high school I never talked unless I was spoken to. But because I was so quiet people automatically assumed I was a freak, so the cycle started again. I wasn’t teased much for my weight anymore, just for the fact that everyone assumed I was freak.

As I look back on this I am appalled at the way I was treated. I can’t believe that I let myself be pushed toward that pit of depression by so many people. But I just felt hopeless at the time. I didn’t know that I was allowed to fight back. After so many years of being incessantly ridiculed I had very little self-esteem. By the end of high school I had none. My only real comfort was food. I’d eat when I was either bored or depressed. It’s no wonder why I gained over 50 pounds during high school. I wouldn’t readily admit this, but despite the rather tough exterior I have, I’m also very sensitive.

I’ve always felt as though people write me off too easily because of my shyness. They don’t bother to see what’s really going on inside of my head. They don’t take the time to see what’s in my heart.