Thirteen Reasons to Live (A Glimpse into My Story of Mental Health)

When I was nine years old I started to realize that I was not perfect. Funny how it took me that long to feel these things. I started to look in front of the mirror and consume hours of television. I would hear words like “hot”, “sexy”, or “beautiful” thrown about at pretty girls with thin bodies and absolutely no boobs. I was instantly like that is what I am going to look like.

Until Middle School came around and I started growing boobs. I got bigger in the chest and added curves to my body. I looked in the mirror and said, “I am hideous.” Then some loved ones said, “Wow you are so chubby.” Then this show said, “Jump in front of a mirror and everything that jiggles LOSE.” Then my friends at school said their weight. Then I saw this. What in the world was I suppose to do. My belly did not look like that. My hair was not looking like that. bspears.jpg

So I remember being young and getting on the computer really stealthily. I found these websites called “ProAna.” I even had met a girl on a website and we were supposed to be partners in our fight to be skinny. My mental health was at risk here but I was around people who were not equipt to handle this.She survived off of energy drinks and I threw up everything that came into my body. I was twelve. I wrote lists of who I was supposed to be. I wanted to be ninety pounds. I wanted to look dainty and frail. So I kept throwing up. One day my mom caught me. Yet instead of feeling worried I was reprimanded. So I kept doing it and was just pretending not to be hungry. My mental health was steadily going down hill. Then people would get upset. So I went back to throwing up. Taking a bath right after dinner to throw up. Pushing my limits daily to see how little I could consume. Making up goals in my head. Then losing and bingeing on a bunch of food to then purge.

pro_ana.jpgI was determined to look thin and thought that would make me happy. I kept throwing up and watching what I ate. Making rules that I would only eat in front of people. That way they always saw me eating. I then started to feel this numbness crawl up into my soul. Depression was the mental illness that begins to fester there until the moment I realized it was actually consuming my life. I was sitting on a bus somewhere in Costa Rica. I looked out at a beautiful meadow filled with sheep and beautiful bushes. I did not feel a damn thing. Not a feeling of where I was. Not a feeling of how cool it must have been to be there. Not a feeling of anything. I remember smiling all the time. I remember hiding in my room all the time and being like “cry damn it, feel something.” I just could not feel anything. So I took a knife I found in the house and I pressed it against my skin. I had done it before just when I was angry. I had cut my skin in patterns when I was upset. I had gotten yelled at it for my apparent need to cut did not matter to me I thought all people did it. The more I did not eat and the more I self-harmed the more I got into feeling okay. My mental health deteriorated further.11130492_10206524943261884_4522816477615052112_o.jpg

Can you spot the self-harm? Here I am at nineteen. Where I was told how to live, how to act, how to be. Where I was going to get married. Where I was going to college that I hated. Where I was going to be somehow perfect. I found laid down my spirituality and picked up Jesus. That was supposed to save my life. That was supposed to make me feel better. Yet I still had scars on my wrists, cuts on my arm, and thighs. I still felt empty and unsatisfied. I still struggled with my identity. Still did not want to eat anything. I still was smiling though. So I look like a brilliantly happy girl. I was chatty. I was happy. I participated in a hundred different things: modeling, politics, environmental conservation, volunteering, kids, Cru, blogging, and church. I told people how I was feeling. Yet they just did not want to hear it.

So in August of 2016, I started writing my own Thirteen Reasons Why. I wrote them in my head and never on a piece of paper. I did not glamorize it nor really think of it as reasons for suicide. Mine were not people. In fact, all of my reasons were feelings.



At this point, I was utterly alone in my thoughts. I began to drink heavier, speak less, lose interest in all the things that I loved. I started to push everyone away. I was involved in ministry and went overseas. There I felt alive. I was alone, but I was alive. I met a woman there who inspired me. She played with fabrics and taught at the college I was at. I just felt a soul connection. I wanted to be like her. I came home and slipped away again. I began to cry myself to sleep. I sat at the end of my bed and pretended like it was a cliff. In three seconds you could jump. I planned out my death. I would make it convenient for everyone. No mess. No hurt (I thought.) I planned on going to a picnic and then hugging my friends for the last time. I planned on calling my family and telling them I loved them. I was done. My mental health almost stole my life.


Do you know what it feels like to be at your wits end? I did. I do. I could not just idly sit by anymore. Regardless of what my family thought of how I was handling things. Regardless of the days that getting up were hard. Regardless of who said negative things to me. Regardless of the issues, I had in my personal life. Regardless of who loved me and who did not. Regardless of the pain. I do not believe I got better because I worked on myself. I believe I got better because I reached out for help. I could not do it on my own. I was ready to go. I was ready to do anything to leave this life. To be honest, sometimes those dark thoughts creep back in a lot of the time. When I am on my medicine it is better for my mental health they say. Yet I lack my creativity. I lack my sense of self when I am on them. People say you cannot control bipolar disorder by yourself, I know that to be true so I took to seeing a great therapist. Sometimes I would be on medicine where I would see shit that was not there. Yet usually I am just paranoid. I will always work myself up that someone is following me. Yet I just know it’s not actually there. I have a really long way to go until I am good. Like this is just me getting to know myself. So I have to give you my thirteen reasons to live.

  1. You are human who deserves life
  2. Hope does not happen in death
  3. People love you and I do
  4. You have a purpose like a daisy out of concrete
  5. You are a go-getter and you will not give up
  6. There are beautiful people along the way trust me
  7. You can change your circumstances
  8. If you do not have support from your family it does not make you unworthy
  9. You looks have nothing to do with your heart
  10. Your voice is still your voice even when it trembles
  11. There is a difference between happy and joy and the difference is one is conditional.
  12. There are some shitty things in this earth and you are one thing that is not
  13. Your mind is valuable and we need you.

I am okay. I say that I am okay because I am not at one hundred percent. I do not function as well as some people. I am still figuring out this mental health thing as I go. I am still figuring out that crying is good therapy. Shit, I am figuring out that boobs are great. Your ass is fine. You can be loud. You can be whatever the hell you want to be. I just know that I do not want to be sad. I realized that I like things. So take that mental illness and shove it up your ass.



Categories: body image, break ups, Dating, Eating Disorder, eating disorders, emotional health, Encouragement, gender, Hope, lifestyle, mental, mental health, positive thinking, Uncategorized, uplifting, woman, womanhood, WorldTags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

1 Comment

  1. Travis

    just want to tell you Molly that the first time I layed eyes on you I couldn’t get over how beautiful you we’re 🙂 your a special gal and your a brilliant mind with a sense of free spirit about you!…the struggle between our ears is a very real one and only you know because you live it every day……stay strong Molly 🙂 you will be in my prayers daily for healing……


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