picture me among the trees thirty feet tall and evergreen wise and sturdy and all I should be still, you don't gaze up in jealousy for you know me, the home of your bees and you, my child, wild and free we dance in the wind- in each other we see creation makes beauty so purposefully

Throughout the past twelve years, my mother has emphasized a love for learning in her parenting style. From an early age, she read to me frequently and instilled in me the habit of asking questions. Any time I didn't understand something, whether that be a word or a concept, I was encouraged to ask about it. Through asking, I gained a broad vocabulary and a longing to understand as much as I could. Being a single parent presents many challenges, but my mom navigates these challenges with grace. She was always happy to help me with my studies, even after she stopped understanding the courses I was taking. I remember her teaching me to carry numbers at our picnic table in second grade, and the patience she had while explaining the topic. Now, she no longer understands my coursework, but she continues to teach me to maintain good study habits and to be an active participant in class. She holds me to high standards of effort rather than achievement. Through this motive, I have gained the achievements. My mom has always told me that she'd prefer I get a C on a test that I studied for and asked questions about but couldn't wrap my head around than a B on homework that I didn't make time to finish. However, in high school, I lost my desire to participate and understand. In sophomore year, I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and an eating disorder, and none of these diagnosis came as a surprise. I had already been checked out mentally for some time. When you're terrified of simply sitting in a classroom because you can feel your body touching a chair and desk and you've convinced yourself that everyone is scrutinizing you the way you're scrutinizing yourself, the last thing you're focused on in what is being taught to you. For the first couple of weeks, there was conflict. My mom still expected 100% from me while I felt like I was running on empty. She tried to talk to me several times and initially we didn't get far. As my dislike for the classroom grew, I revisited conversation with a more open mind, and, eventually, we found compromise. She offered me mental health days- one to two days per marking period that I could stay home and reset. I began learning to give 100% of whatever I had that day even if it was 100% of the 20% I had. I would be rich if I had a dollar for every time I was asked "What can I do to help?". Having her support was so much more helpful than she knew. Even on the days that I got so upset with her for telling me to get my work done, I was thankful by the time I was done that I had her to keep me on track. I slowly got back into a rhythm and my grades returned to their usual, nearly perfect state. If it hadn't been for her constant support, encouragement, and celebration of my accomplishments, no matter how small, I wouldn't be anywhere close to the student I am today. I'm so thankful for all she does to help me expand my knowledge and take initiative both in and out of the classroom. My mom is the most wonderful educational role model and mentor in my life!

Recently a mentor said a phrase to me that I believe every person who has ever struggled with an eating disorder needs to hear. We were talking as a group about what we hoped to get out of the week long dance intensive that started that day. I shared my response with the group: "I hope to regain an appreciation for myself and to draw inspiration from others without using others as a scale of my worth." In response, he told us all to write in our journals "Admire someone else's beauty without questioning your own." He had unknowingly summarized the lesson I had been at battle with for the past four years. Throughout high school I had become accustomed to belittling myself in comparison to others. My eating disorder became a comfortable and incredibly unhealthy coping mechanism for the times when I questioned my worth. Those times were far too frequent. As a gifted child who grew up craving validation, I deemed my body the aspect of myself that could never measure up. You can't receive an A+ on your stomach or a medal for muscle definition. However, it didn't take much creativity to find another way to quantitatively validate an achievement: hours. I began to see how long I could go without food. As my depression worsened through COVID and I became terrified of being around people- terrified of being judged- I isolated, and my fasting 'game' became entertaining. Entertainment became obsession as I religiously tracked calories and hours and weight. The more 'achievements' I gained the less I wanted to stop. It was comfortable because it was how I told myself that I was enough. I adopted the idea that extreme restriction made me enough. However, growth does not happen when you're comfortable. At the beginning of my junior year, I decided to make myself uncomfortable and to grow as much as possible that year. I'm not sure what caused it, or exactly when it happened. Truth be told, I don't believe it was a single moment. I believe it happened the first time I regretted fasting, the first time I woke up shaking after not eating for 36 hours and felt guilty about the part of me that was proud. It happened every time I got through a ballet class without crying and ate at lunch without covering my mouth and not saying a word. It happened every time I relapsed, and, more importantly, every time I told myself it wasn't going to happen again. Recovery isn't a single instance or choice and it isn't a finish line. As much as I'd love to believe they do, mental illnesses do not just disappear. But they can recede. They can lose control of your life, and that power can return to you. This year I decided time and time again to stop letting food control my life. I ate before my competitions and I challenged myself to smile through ballet. I sat down with my mom and addressed the comments she makes about what I eat in a respectful, yet sure manner. I went to football and basketball games even when I didn't feel like it and ate dinner before I left the house. I made some of my favorite high school memories at those games. I went to prom. That's something I never thought I would do. I wore a neon green dress and I danced the whole night. This year I'll have to continue choosing between what's easy and what's right, but all those seemingly small choices have made the biggest impact on my life.