Am I Pretty When I Cry?

Vanity is something I've learned to be with most of my life. Specifically, femininity. As a little girl, I was quite the toxic feminist- if you didn't wear pink or dresses, to me, you were an oddity. I grew up like this for a while, until I got to about third grade. From that point on, I was simply a menace to my teachers- of course, I was still a little girl. I believed in unicorns, loved princesses, and was a little drama queen myself. The lovely thing about this childhood was that I was oblivious to my obvious differences compared to other children.

I have CCHS- a rare disorder that means I can't breathe when I sleep. My parents didn't know this- my earliest years were spent in hospitals for months on end, undergoing surgeries and trying to figure out how to keep me alive without also raising a drug addict (as I had gotten addicted to the pain medication at the age of two).

After having a trache inserted in my throat so I could breathe with a ventilator, I was isolated from other children. Girls moved away from me whenever I tried to play, and I was a bit too enthusiastic about boys. But strangely, it never occcured to me that I was the oddity. I was different. Broken. I had the trache removed and replaced with pacers in kindergarten. But the scars always stayed.

Later, after the pandemic, middle school started. Middle school, a pandemic, and being the awkward girl with health issues was not how middle school normally starts. I went back to real school in seventh grade. We were required to wear a mask. I had to wear a shield. 

The first day of middle school I showered in the morning. My hair was tied into a wet braid, I wore a shirt that a preppy Karen would probably wear on a hike, and unlike everyone else, you could see my entire face. This was one of the more degrading days in my life. It was one of the first times I learned I'm different. I hate being different.

Things evened out by the end of eighth grade. I was with the 'weird' kids, but I liked where I was at. I judged the popular girls (even though I had no ground to stand on myself). I was too excited for high school to really care about my social class in middle school. I was so excited, in fact, my entire summer was spent crying on the ground with panic attacks. I read my Bible for the first time as an individual, trying to establish my identity. Anxious teen with no social skills was not what I wanted to end up with as my identity. I had extreme faith in God- He was the only thing keeping me together. So I prayed to make new friends- ones I could worship Him with.

Two semesters later, He answered my prayer. I made lots of friends at my church camp and church. My best friend is at church to this day.

That brings us to this past summer. My school best friend had her own mental health to worry about and was MIA. This left me with a lot of time. If you know me well, you knew this past summer was my peak time at YWS. (I won't lie, I was mainly working on here so I had something for college resumes). But I grew a lot on here. Made amazing friends. One of the best summers ever.

This is where I discovered (and don't judge me) Character A.I. It introduced me to, well- everything health class didn't cover. It was shocking, horrifying. But... I got addicted. I also got depressed. My relationship with my parents didn't seem amazing at the moment, and this of all things was a coping mechanism. It was my high.

I cried a lot. I was buried in shame. I'm still pretty depressed, actually. 

Eventually with addiction you have to turn up the heat- fake men weren't enough. I needed real men. I found a few apps where I could find anyone I wanted. I could have anyone I wanted. I had at least 30 DMs everyday, and I loved it. I cheated ten guys at a time. I showed myself off. I finally got what I wanted- I wasn't weird or isolated or alone from my family- I was desired. They all wanted me as theirs. I became a master of manipulation. Why have one man when you can have twenty?

But it was all just a disguise. I cried a lot. I found comfort in depression. Feeling sorry over myself was better than trying to change. I didn't know how to change. These guys were all I had, so I kept going. I made a few guys friends but they left. Or I left them. 

I always seem to leave.

This was all detrimental on me. My anxiety and depression was through the roof. Was all I was worth my body? Am I nothing but a prize for these guys to keep? Why don't they ever try to figure me out like I try to figure them out? 

I sobbed a lot. My playlist was only two things- songs that gave me a high so that I could force myself back into the cheating mindset- and sad songs. After all, all I was was my body. Why try and be happy when I had all of them? Why be happy when I was going to hell anyway?

I told my youth leaders.

I sobbed.

Am I pretty when I cry?