THE GIRL

I’m the girl in the back of the room. I’m the one who knows the answer, but is terrified to say it or bring attention to herself. I’m the girl who pulls herself in to make herself small and unnoticeable. I’m the girl who finds any way to make herself tolerable to others, who’s tired of having to put so much effort into what she wears just to been seen as presentable. I’m the girl with the big hips, the round cheeks, the rotund stomach and thighs. I’m the girl who’s never the attractive friend, who’s the one that stands to the side while her friends shop because she will never be able to wear the same type of clothes as them. I’m the one who feels left out and pushed aside, who fights back her tears so as not to ruin everyone else’s night. I’m the girl who is embarrassed to eat in front of others, who feels condemning eyes, real or not, in every corner.

I am the girl with polycystic ovarian syndrome. I am the girl who sobbed in the car the whole way home from the doctor’s office, whose heart felt as though it stopped the minute the diagnosis came from the doctor’s mouth. I am the girl who has tried over and over to lose the weight, take off the pounds, but her illness has fought her every step of the way. I am the girl who didn’t menstruate for two years, who was terrified out of her mind that her body was breaking. I am the girl who was brushed off by her doctor, who was told it was because she was fat, that if she actually “tried” to change her behavior, she would be fine. I am the girl who worries every day about her ability to one day start a family because of her diagnosis.

spark

I am the girl who sometimes can’t get out of bed because her mind weighs her down and pulls the energy from her body as she stares at the ceiling in the morning. I am the girl whose mother made her a parent from a young age and who had to watch her waste away. I am the girl whose father struggled with addiction, the girl who knew how to open a beer bottle from age seven. I’m the girl who watched him struggle and worked through every wave with him. I am the girl whose mother left, making her feel abandoned, forgotten, and angry. I am the girl whose grandmother died, who had to wait as her flesh gnawed away at her from the inside and never even got to say goodbye. I am the girl whose father had a heart attack, who had to watch him panic and gasp for breath on the stairs, who watched the paramedics race away with him while her whole body shook. I’m the girl who waited until she was alone to cry, so she could be strong for her sisters. I’m the one who begged and pleaded to any deity who would listen to not take him away.

I am also the girl who keeps going, the girl who looks at herself in the mirror and whispers “You are beautiful.” I am the girl who knows what she is worth and will do her best to ignore the words and the stares. I’m the girl who dresses how she wants to, when she wants to. I am the girl who is learning to love herself every day, who doesn’t allow her illness to define her. I am the girl who has an amazing stepmom who shows what a mother should really be like and shows her how to be the best she can be. I’m the girl whose father is making it and is almost a year sober, who loves his children fiercely and has never left. I am the girl who deserves happiness.

personal essay Jillian Akers // 12