I can remember.

I've thinking back a lot and being absolutely astounded at how far I have come in the past few years. It's remarkable. It's one of those things you don't really notice until you notice it.

I can remember being seventeen years old, around the time of my open house at UConn and the banquet for arts scholars. I hated myself more than I can remember hating myself. My appearance was humiliating and debilitating. I would take pictures and delete them. I hated the way that all of my clothes fit but I absolutely refused to buy new ones. Buying bigger clothes was like giving in, accepting that this was what I was going to look like forever. Fat. Ugly. Useless. Stupid. Annoying. They all seemed to lump together in one giant thing: that I was imperfect and that public should be avoided. I deleted so many pictures of myself. There are no memories of me on our dinner cruise on our senior class trip because I couldn't stand to have that kind of photographic evidence. It was crushing.

It's not that now I can look in the mirror and see someone perfect. It's not like now I see pictures and think I look fantastic in all of them. And it's not like I haven't had those feelings about myself since then. In fact, it's happened on multiple occasions, especially during my weight gain sophomore year and my weight gain after junior year. There was something different then though, because I knew I was able to losing the weight and I knew how much I was capable of and how beautiful I was, even though I felt hideous and embarrassed (and especially ashamed of my hair at the two latter times).

Recently, however, I haven't felt the urge to delete every picture of me. I haven't felt the urge to hide my body but rather to embrace it. I'm not nearly as thin as I used to be, but I am in shape. My boobs don't humiliate me anymore by their ginormous size and I like my hair. I know how to do my makeup and I often feel proud of my face. I have hips and curves and better weight distribution. I am able to see the positives and let them outweigh the negatives.

It's hard. But maybe that's why I'm able to carry on. That's why I'm not nearly as sick as I used to be. I don't know how it happened or how I did it but it's remarkable that it's happened. I'm so glad I don't feel that way constantly anymore.

Do you know what it's like to cry almost every night because of what you look like? Do you know what it's like to be so ashamed of how you look? Do you know what it's like to see yourself in mirrors and pictures and literally just want to die or disappear or drop off the face of the earth? Do you know what it's like to think that your boyfriend and friends think you're fat and ugly? Do you know what it's like to think strangers and acquaintances are constantly judging you for your appearance? Do you have any idea what that kind of pain feels like?

I never thought I'd be free of it, but now I kind of am. I have my bad days, my off days, sure, but they aren't every single day anymore. And that's essential. Even remembering how I felt makes me want to sob, makes me pity myself, and makes me pray to God that no one ever has to go through that.

Everyone who does, you can get through it! Those feelings aren't real. You are worthy.

I couldn't be happier that I don't feel so desperate and lost and alone... and disgusting. I'm single, sure. I'm older now, yup. But I'm better and I'm happier and, maybe, without those horrible feelings, I'd never appreciate myself as much as I do now.