In English we were asked to compile a list titled "10 Things I've Learned in My Life". We then chose one to be a personal statement and then made a lot of work based off of that. One of our final assignments for this unit was the personal essay. Our first paragraph was supposed to be symbolic and end with our personal statement. We then explained our personal statement and what it meant to us through narration of events in our lifetime. My essay is below & there is audio of me reading it as well.

We then used a program called Adobe Flash to make our essay a podcast. This was our second podcast of the year so it gave us a chance to improve upon the skills we'd learned in various programs.

I can feel the burning in my lungs. It threatens to come spilling out, I can barely hold it in. My shaky hands move on their own; they pry my mouth wide open only to find an entire universe inside. There’s an ephemeral silence that soon becomes a fierce outpouring as strong as the monsoons. My shaking slowly stops as the floods continue for what seems like forever. As it slows, I’m met with an ineffable peace. I remind myself to breathe. Three shallow breaths: in...out and repeat. My hands return to my side, shaking again as I feel the sparks start up again. This time I smile and proudly let them blaze; I shouldn’t apologize for the fierce love I have for myself.

There are few things as exhilarating as accepting yourself. In a world full of depressed and uninspired kids, it’s rare to feel this way. I remember the harsh criticisms that spilled from the other kids my age. I think being a teenager is hard but being a teenage girl is a whole new level of hell. A lot of us have this entire fantasy of how our teenage years will be, how we’ll be, and when we face the inevitable disappointment, it hits hard.

Even back in middle school I could see the poison bubbling in the other girls’ veins. They clawed at themselves, just trying to get rid of the toxicity. It was always something or the other; “I hate my hair”, “my skin is horrible”. Before eighth grade I’d never even heard of the term “thunder thighs!” But as I soon discovered, the ways to hate yourself were vast and many. All I heard from these girls was negativity, it almost seemed like a competition of who hated themselves the most. And it didn’t stop there. I distinctly remember being told I was “too loud” for someone like me. It was as if my size, race, and whatever other physically defining elements I possessed could be used as fodder against me. My own relatives would hush me, reminding me that Indian girls weren’t vibrant or obtrusive. I remember feeling strange for not hating myself - it felt like a taboo of some sort.

Twelve year old me was very impressionable and just wanted to fit in. So I bought into it, I started looking hard for flaws within myself. With that mindset, it wasn’t hard and before I knew it, I’d sunken into this pit of self-loathing.

I’d been convinced I needed to recreate myself completely; I remember abandoning what felt comfortable. I participated less in school and isolated myself to the best of my ability. After all, I didn’t want to be obtrusive. Those were definitely the worst months of my life, filled with misery and disgust at myself. Thankfully, it didn’t last too long. This change hadn’t gone unnoticed by my mother so she got me help. A few months of therapy and the contempt I felt for myself eased.

I’m still nowhere near the way I once was and in all honesty I don’t think I ever will be. I think self hatred at such and young and fragile age breaks you in a way that can never really be fixed. That’s something no one ever tells you. No one ever warns you that once you go down that road there’s no off switch, no turning back. It’s amazing what a couple months of negativity can do to someone’s self esteem. Looking back I realize what a waste it was, how stupid it was to get caught up in this self loathing. Your youth goes by a lot faster than you think it will; it’s far too short to be apologetic about loving yourself.