As a young girl, fashion played a big role in my life. Of course, looking back now, I don’t think I can necessarily call my clothing choices“fashion.” But that never stopped me. I loved dressing up and acting mature, or just dressing down and acting like a complete fool. Whatever I put on, I felt comfortable in. However, that all changed as I began growing up. I started to notice all of the ridiculous standards girls my age were expected to reach: size zero waist, big butt, large breasts, big eyes, small nose, full lips, and long legs. It was overwhelming. My self-esteem that was once so high began to drop further and further down with every little comment or criticism about my body. It got to a point where I began to become convinced that everyone was making fun of my appearance behind my back or at least thinking it. I understand how self-obsessed and narcissistic that may sound, but paranoia really does take over. I pined after the pretty girls I saw on social media with their perfect bodies and fulfilling lives. I was so uncomfortable in my own skin that I dreaded leaving the house. The stress of finding something to wear with the intent of hiding or essentially blurring my body became onerous. I hated looking at myself, feeling embarrassed and angry that I let myself look and feel this way.

As I started my infernal journey through high school, my self-esteem began affecting other elements of my life. I started to blame every negative aspect that occurred towards my weight. My life was turning bleak and my existence was becoming questionable. The infliction of insecurities unfolded into something deeper and darker: depression. I looked back and yearned for the 7-year old that was fearless and worry-free. The 7-year-old who was comfortable in her own skin. I soon got myself stuck in a dark hole so deep, it felt inescapable and suffocating.

As I slowly started to approach my final years of high school, I met a group of people in band class during my junior year. Through multiple classes and countless hours spent together through the band program, we became a close-knit group, almost like a bunch of peas squished together into one small pod. As cliché as this may sound, they changed my entire outlook on the world and even on how I viewed myself. The world was gaining back its vivid colors and the rope was being rolled down into my deep dark chasm. I realized that my life is precious and important. I have meaning and purpose. Something as little as my appearance should have no effect on the achievements I wish to pursue in life. The simple act of surrounding yourself with positive vibes and good people can make a whole lot of a difference. However, it is not only about the people around you. It took me a long time to realize this, but the most imperative and influential addendum is your mindset. After months of controlling my anxiety by spending time with convivial people, I started training my mind. I reminded myself of my importance and the people in my life that cared for me. Although my 7-year old persona is not back and may never return, I learned an even better lesson and have become a new person. I got back my sense of importance and meaning. I now see that such insignificant factors, such as how you look or how you dress, should have no correlation to your success in life. The part of me I once pined for has learned to not look back, but to move on forward and focus on the bigger things in life. It has also learned to work that much harder for the things it truly wants.