“Shhhhh,” I heard my mother saying, cooing me back to sleep. I followed her directions, and fell into a deep sleep.

Age 2

I played with blocks, stacking them up and knocking them down. I made slides for my Barbie dolls. I watched the doll slide down. I giggled. My mother looked contently into my eyes as she let out a hearty laugh. I was carefree at the time. I dreamed of birdies and puppies and kittens.

Age 4

I skipped cheerfully as we walked to my 4-k. I was SO big. I was SO smart. I was SO pretty. I looked down at my pink, sparkly shoes. They were brand new. I kissed my mother goodbye, and promised I would be home soon to take care of her. I floated into the school, everyone was jealous of my pretty shoes. I dreamed of my pink shoes with a matching tutu.

Age 6­

I dressed in leggings and a dress. My sister held onto me as I told her that I needed to leave. She whined and moaned. I looked at my dress, worried she would rip it. I threatened her, telling her that I would use my karate skills to punch her in the face and throw her out the window. She cowered back, and I felt a pang of regret. That became my signature threat. I dreamed of monsters chasing me, threatening me with my threat.

Age 8

I held back tears as my classmate told me that I looked like I was “pregnant”. I told him nothing. The insult just added to my terrible day of getting insulted. That morning I had worn shorts, only to be insulted on my leg hair and how I should shave. That was followed by “my butt looks funny when I walk, it jiggles.” I asked to go to the bathroom, which only resulted in my friends gossiping about me. I heard as they asked if the “L who must not be named” was in the bathroom, I did not respond. They went on about how I looked and how I was so stupid, I had the best grades in the class! I couldn’t hold them back, I cried until my friends asked what was wrong. I left them. I looked at myself. I thought of myself as fat, ugly, stupid, obese, unhealthy, terrible. I tried to shape myself into someone I’m not. I dreamed of being popular and pretty.

Age 10

I looked at my food and decided I did not need more weight. I told them I was full, when really, my stomach was empty. I looked at myself in the mirror, am I pretty? Am I ugly? Am I worthy? Worthy of what? This is what I ask myself. The answers are yes. I am good enough. I have opened my eyes. I know myself, do I? I love myself, I think. I go to school, I learn. I ignore the “jokes” that star me. I smile, I love, I rise. I learn, I create, I still rise. I rise, I rise, I rise. I have learned, I am learning. I still am stung often. I still cry in my bed. I still choke back my feelings. I still am mean to my sister, but I am learning. They call me a “tween”, but I feel like I went into teenage years early. I have a teenage mindset, a teenage body, and teenage grades. I am like an average teen. But then again, what is average? What am I? Who am I? Why am I? How am I? I did not dream, instead I opened my eyes.