I posted this picture on Instagram a few days ago. In it, you see me smiling and messing around while waiting for a train. It appears that I am extremely happy and don’t have a care in the world. You’d be wrong though.
Social media has provided a place for people to express the best parts of themselves while hiding the worst parts. I am no different. I post pictures that portray my life as one of pure fun and excitement. However, under all of that is a different person, a person that you don’t see. What you don’t see is the immense amount of effort it takes for me to put on a smile. You don’t see me as I sit surrounded by a group of family and friends, and yet feel as if they are miles away. You don’t see my cousin trying to have a conversation, but I’m so distant that I don’t notice their presence. What you don’t see is me as I lay in bed at night, tears roll down my face, my body shakes, and I feel hands of a former lover on me. I go through more tissues than you can imagine and it feels as if I can’t breathe. Sleep is hard to come by and sometimes I can’t sleep alone. When sleep finally comes, I usually awake in the same manner I fell asleep in. What you don’t see are the tears I cry in the shower. I try to wash it all away, but I cannot. It doesn’t matter how hard I scrub my body, the feeling is still there. What you don’t see is the discomfort I feel in receiving a hug or a pat on the back. The moment may be brief, but afterwards I feel hands on me and it makes my flesh crawl. There are times when hugs aren’t so bad, but I have to mentally prepare for those beforehand. What you don’t see is all the time I’ve taken off of work to escape my hometown. So far I’ve only spent two days off in town, otherwise I leave. I spend time with cousins, aunts, and uncles. Leaving makes me feel better. No longer do I have to drive by places or see people that bring up uncomfortable memories. I plan my trips so I don’t arrive back to town until I have to be to work. My drive back is always filled with tears and panic. The thought of family and friends helps to calm me. What you don’t see is someone who has spent time damaging her body in an effort to look better. Waking up and doing multiple insane workouts each day and restricting food was easy. But eating and purging was easier. I could go out on dates and eat. When we’d go back home, I’d use the restroom to purge and then pretend I was fine and continue on. My family has a history of acid reflux so no one ever suspected something more was wrong and I kept it that way. What you don’t see is when I walk in late to in-service every other Friday because I am coming from my therapy session. You don’t see the breathing exercises I’ve been assigned to help calm myself. You don’t see that the journaling I do is to help calm anxiety and how the slightest thing can make me burst out in tears. What you don’t see are the tears streaming down my face as I listen to my psychiatrist say, “It is obvious that you have severe depression, anxiety, and eating disorder symptoms.” Then more tears stream down my face as he writes a prescription for medications to help me feel better. All of this is what you don’t see. It’s unfortunate, yet simply amazing how one simple picture can hide so much. Too often we are tricked into believing that others have a perfect life simply by the content they post. Often times we don’t look beyond a simple picture and realize the person may be fighting every day. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to ask my family or friends for some simple encouragement. One friend and coworker even decorated my locker with silly screenshots of me and made a little sign that says, “I love you,” as a reminder of what I often forget. I am currently in the process of recovery and working hard. There are days when it isn’t always easy and I would rather just forget about the world, but I keep fighting. I have my good days and I have my bad days. My friends and family have shown phenomenal support. I pray like crazy and try to keep my body in good physical condition. Although the battle takes place inside my head, I’ve been instructed on the importance of keeping my physical health in top condition. I ride my bike to work when I can to ease anxiety and listen to “Pride,” by American Authors on repeat (Thank you Crystal for introducing it to me!). Like the song says, “I ain’t never giving up, I ain’t never ever, I ain’t never ever giving up my pride,” I also won’t give up. Sure, there are days that absolutely suck, but pushing through those days is helping to make me stronger. This is my story and there are others like me. My picture does a good job of hiding my story, but remember that what you don’t see, is me.
0 Comments
|
AuthorHello everyone, I'm Bri! Here you can find me writing about life in order to help provide you with encouragement and hope. Want to find out more about me? Go visit my "About Me" page! Happy reading! Archives
April 2017
|