Fifth grade. The first time I was ashamed of myself. Teasing and taunts seemed like part of the curriculum. In fifth grade I learned to be self-conscious. I learned to watch my weight. I learned that being myself wasn't good enough and it was better to hide. I was ashamed. I was hidden. Middle School. I learned that the only person you can count on is yourself. I learned that no one cares about my problems. I learned to keep my mouth shut. I was living behind a mask. I was scared. I was alone. High School. Depression gripped me in its icy arms. I wasn't pretty enough. I wasn't popular enough. I was never enough. I was suicidal. I was hurting myself. Senior year. I recovered. I realized some things are beyond my control. Some things I cannot fix. I realized that I would be okay. I realized that I am me and that is good enough. Now I am alive. I am happy. I am recovered. I am smart. I am kind. I am pretty. I am okay. And most importantly I'm me.