13 February 2012

An essay I wrote as a freshman at BYU, age 18:

The alarm shrieks its way into my dream, and I hop out of bed to turn it off before it awakens my roommate. Immediately the race begins- I am slow in movement, but my mind flies. I take a deep breath. It's not time for this to be happening- the anxiety welling up inside of me should not be such a fundamental part of my life. I feel the suppressed desperation and frustration as I strive to focus on just one thing, my morning prayers. I kneel down, begin to express myself, and then find that my mind wanders a bit.

I am three years old and out on the trampoline, playing a silly game to entertain myself. My mom calls out the screen door and tells me to stop at my game. I ignore her, and when I come in a little while later, she sits me down and gives me a talking-to. I was disobedient and should have stopped when she told me. I feel shame well up within me and cannot look at her anymore. I hide under a blanket the rest of the night, sick to my stomach that I have done something wrong.

I sit up after pouring my heart out to the Lord and begin my morning scripture study. However, the thoughts are incredibly difficult to combat this morning. They are flooding in as I open my Book of Mormon and look for inspiration from the Lord- thoughts of panic that I may have eaten too much the night before, that I acted inappropriately, that I am inadequate- all  of these thoughts that I have work so hard for so many years to conquer.

I am five and I just sprinted up the stairs. I take a seat, and realize that my heart rate is elevated. I look down at my legs and promptly put two and two together: the fact that I can't climb stairs without getting out of breath and the fact that my legs touch when I sit down means that I am fat. I am painfully disappointed in myself. I am imperfect.

In my college dorm, I pour over Holy Writ and feel His Spirit come to me. I know that I am a daughter of God, and this trial I have been blessed with will teach me something I could learn no other way, because I am who I am, and He needs me to be something unique. But that doesn't mean it's easy to conquer.

I am in sixth grade, and running on the Cross Country team. I joined to please the people who surround me, but I feel panic well up inside of me each day when 3:00 draws near. I am fat; I need to lose weight. However, my body does not change as the season goes on, and when I approach those I look up to about it, I am told that maybe I need to stop eating so much. That's the solution, and I realize that only if I lose weight will I be who I should be.

I find this morning as I study the scriptures that my Heavenly Father is speaking words of peace to my soul as I struggle to fight the thoughts that so often plague me. I feel His love for me as I read in the Ensign about taking His words into my heart and becoming the person He would have me be. I can do this.

I am in ninth grade, and I feel sickening shame each morning I wake up; I know that somehow, no matter what, each action of mine is incorrect and imperfect. I am shameful. I am inadequate. I am overweight. I begin a weight loss program. 900 calories a day is enough for a 14 year old, as long as I make sure to exercise strenuously every day as well. I feel almost worthless as the year goes on, but I cling to love of my parents and my Savior. They won't let me do this alone.

The words of the Savior in the Book of John prick my heart, and I quickly write down impressions that I have of the love of the Savior for His sheep- He is the good shepherd, and I must strive to recognize His voice. I am a strong and blessed daughter of God. I am of infinite worth, and have incredible potential. Peace is whispered to my soul as I learn what the Lord says to His apostles as he washes their feet at the Last Supper.

It is night. I hate these quiet moments, when I am completely alone. It is the time when thoughts begin to overwhelm. I am too busy throughout the rest of my day to be drowned in thoughts; I must spend every second of every day accomplishing something, otherwise I am not worth anything. Besides, being busy distracts me from the panic I feel when I look in the mirror and realize the South Beach Diet I am on is not working, at all. If anything, I have gained weight. And now food has become my obsession. I keep a food diary. I am 5'9" and 150 lbs. I am fat. I should be thin. I should be perfect. Maybe if I continue to push myself in my two piano competitions and weekly lessons, French horn competitions and weekly lessons, two callings, AP classes, 10+ hours of lacrosse every week then I will become perfect. Maybe then I will be worthwhile. As I lay curled on the ground in my room and cry, I feel desperation as I think about the heinous amount of homework still left to do that night. 12:30 am and hours left to go- oh well, sleep is unproductive, and thus unnecessary.

I open my Patriarchal Blessing at the close of my daily time of pondering. I read, and I know the words contained in this sacred document are straight from the Lord. I love being able to read and look back on my life. I feel deeply the Lord's love for me as I see in the paragraphs guidance for my life in high school with issues that were so difficult for me. The Lord knew what I was going through, all along.

It's my junior year, and I am in my parent's room once again. They are at the end of their rope- I am melting down, just like every other night. I am spouting off every worry from the day, and it takes over an hour of tears and near hysteria to sort through all of my thoughts. I may have offended someone that day. I am not as skinny as I should be. I don't exercise enough. I didn't work hard enough that day. I regurgitate every infinitesimal detail of the day, every crushing detail that someone in a health mental state would not remember or think on. But I do, and my parents are yet again bewildered. They counsel me; I am not calmed. They get frustrated; they do not know how else to handle this daughter who obsesses and worries about everything. They finally suggest counseling, and it occurs to me that they think I am crazy. Something is wrong with me.

I write my impressions as the half hour I devote to my Lord and Savior each morning moves on. My mind is enlightened as I receive and record revelation. I see His hand in my life every day; life is beautiful because He is such a huge part of it. I am never alone. I am a precious daughter of God. I am loved- on Earth and in Heaven.

I enter the office. A small and kind lady sits across from me, and asks me about myself. It is my senior year, and this is incredibly difficult; I try so hard to put on the appearance of perfection for everyone around me, while I crumble inside. yet here she is asking me to tell her everything that I from everyone around me. She gives me a paper with several questions. After looking over it, she looks to me in pity. "Oh honey. No wonder you have come to me. You have severe anxiety. It's a chemical imbalance in your brain; we need to get you on medication. And it does not help that you are a perfectionist either. Do you find that you ever feel inadequate or worthless?"
The year passes; I attend a weekly counseling visit, take medication and learn to know and love myself. Painful, ignored wounds from my past are reopened, cleaned, and bandaged, but I learn to evaluate and then grow form them. I begin to like myself. I see the good I do every day. I begin to have a healthy relationship with food. Having a name for the issue that plagues me daily is a help; I know I am not just psycho. I know that my problem is legitimate, but most importantly, I know that I can be helped. And so I improve, guided by the arm of mercy of my Savior. I feel His guidance in my life daily as I realize that I have never been alone; I have always been loved. My parents watch in relief as I start to release burdens that have devastated me for so long.

My half an hour of study over for the day, I reluctantly close my scriptures. I kneel down and offer up a prayer of gratitude. I feel the Lord's love for me. He has calmed my fears; He has brought me to where I need to be. My mind is relaxed and clear, finally. I can be the woman He wants me to be because He will help me get there. He has never forsaken me in the past. And now, at the beginning of a new day, I feel freedom and peace at the opportunities that lie ahead. I am never alone; I have good  to do in this world, and the Lord to guide me as I do it. I am prepared, as I lean on the Lord, to do the work He sent me here to do. And so I will- He dedicated himself to saving me, and I dedicate my life to serving Him. It's time for a new day to begin, and joy fills my heart as it does.