Mrs. Watson

I was a smart kid. I walked into my Kindergarten pre-screening knowing my ABC’s and how to count. But I was terrified. There she was–Mrs. Watson. She looked like a witch. I ran and hid under the desk desperately trying to get out of the situation. She came and grabbed my arm and plucked me from under the desk. I was labeled “not ready” and told to come back one year later to try again.

And there it was. The first time someone ever told me I wasn’t good enough. I was 5 and I still remember it like it was yesterday. All these years later, I now realize how instrumental this moment has been in shaping who I am. I have carried the shame with me my entire life and built a foundation on top of it.

In the years following, I tried to prove everyone wrong with brain power as my main ammo. I became a “know it all” and was obsessed with being smart and successful. But because I still didn’t really think I was good enough, I allowed the shame to manifest itself in other ways. I gained some weight and people reminded me that I wasn’t good enough or pretty enough. Being a slightly thick girl in elementary school is unbearable. I remember ordering class sweatshirts and being embarrassed to put my size. I always had clothes that were ill-fitting because writing down “size medium” looked better than writing down “size large.” Buying clothing for special occasions was a nightmare and a constant source of anxiety. Boys called me a “whale” because I wanted to be a Marine Biologist. I was friends with all the boys, but never of interest. I threw myself into my schooling–because if I could do anything, I was going to be smart.

In high school, I did it all. I rocked a 4.0 easily. I played sports every single season–volleyball, water polo, swimming, and track and field. I was social with many different groups and competitive sports made me feel really good. Then I made a good friend that showed me how to really forget about feelings of not being good enough and how to handle my anxiety–alcohol. It worked for awhile, until it didn’t. Experiences surrounding alcohol abuse piled onto my shame pile.

I partied my way through college and put on way more weight than the standard freshman 15. I stayed up all night studying, drank a shit ton of coffee, and ate bad food. I was still pulling it off on the surface, but I was seriously miserable. I “dated” assholes who I let disrespect me over and over again. I believed what Mrs. Watson had told me—I wasn’t good enough. Nevertheless, I found ways to keep trying to convince myself and everyone else that I was–I graduated with a B.A in German and a B.S. in Marine Biology. I got jobs in my industry straight out of college. I rose to the top of the ranks at Tesla quickly and was promoted 4 times in 3 years. I became a serious CrossFitter and was probably the fittest I have ever been in my life. I was fit and successful–now surely I should feel worthy right?

Welcome the “yo-yo.” Again, this felt really good for awhile and I was a lot healthier. I was at the top of my game, but I was sacrificing a lot of my mental health to keep it together. My anxiety was out of control trying to pull this all off. I couldn’t sustain it and slowly started to slip and gained back more weight. I lost it again, gained it again, lost it again. Isagenix. Paleo. Keto. Vegan. Low glycemic. Medifast. Intermittent fasting. Yoga. High intensity interval training. Bulimia. I am no stranger to any of these things.

After a nervous breakdown at 30, it was time for a drastic change. I was tired of trying to prove something. I quit the mentally exhausting job and hustled to land myself a remote job in the fitness industry that would help facilitate a healthier lifestyle. I took principles I had learned in yoga to try and create something I had never had in my life–balance and self-love.

I have finally started to turn inward to try and understand why things have manifested the way they did in the past. It is hard. There isn’t always an answer and every day is different than the next. I still try to catch glimpses of my silhouette in anything reflective as often as I can. Sometimes I stare at myself naked and just pinch all the parts I don’t like or bail on social commitments last minute on really bad days. When I try to shop and they only go up to a size M/L, I sometimes become who I was emotionally at 10 years old. I think about everything that I eat and track all my fitness on my Apple Watch. I have to actively monitor the influence social media has on my mental health and even as an adult woman, I am still fat shamed by men when I show disinterest.

While I don’t have a fairy tale ending, there are two things I now fully grasp that are monumental: there is NO final destination and there is NO perfect. This is going to be something that is a part of my entire life journey. Every single day I am going to be confronted with possible triggers, but I just have to continue to learn how to manage them and carry the proper tools with me. I am healthier both physically and mentally than I was yesterday and am constantly evolving and growing. It is a shit ton of work, but it is worth it and I am doing the best I can–which is all I can ask of myself.