Road To Legacy

 In my earlier posts, I spoke about my depression. I was never diagnosed with clinical depression, but I suffered from situational depression. You may be wondering what situational depression is, or why it's even called that.  According to Healthline.com, situational depression is defined as: " short-term, stress-related type of depression. It can develop after you experience a traumatic event or series of events. Situational Depression is a type of adjustment disorder. It can make it hard for you to adjust your everyday life following a traumatic event. It is also known as reactive depression."  Symptoms vary depending on age, gender, and situation. SD (situational depression) symptoms are:  1) hopelessness 2) lack of focus 3) regular crying 4) feeling overwhelmed 5) Avoiding usual social interaction with people 6) the biggest one being thoughts and/or attempts of suicide The list goes on for every, but there are few symptoms that many people-including myself- have suffe

 Beauty. In 14 year old Lily's mind, that word meant skinny, thigh gap, negative calories, ribs, and so many other words. I thought that thin meant beautiful and any amount of fat was a bad thing, and extra small and double zero were the only acceptable sizes. While I lived in South America, the food had no additives, very organic and we didn't have access to fast food so at thirteen I was TINY. Then I moved back to the States, everyone wanted to feed us, and American food is NOT healthy, and I loved every bit of it. Slowly, my weight went up and I had gained over forty pounds. I was out-eating everyone in my house, even my dad. Then one day, the words started to come that would put me into a battle for my sanity, and my health.  "Chunky." "You shouldn't eat that much." "Put that food back." "Why don't you go and run around the neighborhood?" This was their motivation for me, but little did they know that I was going to use those

 No one wants to say that they attempted suicide, or even thought about it at thirteen years old- much less fifteen and sixteen years old. No one wants to think that they would have scars that they had no funny story about, but I did.  There are over 70% of people who self-harm. I was a part of that statistic. I was a happy child, until my life got turned upside down. Once I moved back to the U.S. I was overwhelmed with culture shock, my body changing, and being an outsider in my own country. We moved to a rural part of Louisiana, into a three bedroom house, where I had no idea how much my life would change. How I learned about self-harm? From a girl that I considered my best friend at the time. It was a great friendship, and I didn't understand what self-harm was until the moment I slipped up. At fourteen, I betrayed her, and lied to my parents.  I felt worthless. I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to do penance for my betrayal of the only friend that I had. After that, I was an ou

I'm back, and ready to dive into the hard stuff. As a child, I had a pretty good childhood. Family Nights every Friday night, my mom reading me American Girl books, being home-schooled, and going to swim at the local sim club a few blocks from where we used to live once we settled down.  We settled down in the middle of the city known as Piura, Peru. Piura was in the middle of the desert, around 14 hours from the Capital, Lima, an hour or two from the mountains and an hour from one of the most gorgeous beaches you could ever imagine: Colan. Once we were established it was a great life. I had rabbits, had a few dogs, took care of my siblings and I didn't know any better. That was my life and for all I knew I was going to be staying there.  As a child, I would get sad. For example, when my rabbit died, or when my little puppy died from distemper. But I never knew what being depressed was, or what being depressed even meant. Sometimes, I would stumble across something my mother wo