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It all begun October 21

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It was one of those days in which you just know you should not leave bed, your bodycraves the mattress and your skin becomes one with the sheets, you have this internmonologue in which your proactive-self is debating your lazy-self whether you should stay in bed for another five minutes or not. I mean, really, even my bones refused tomove. For some strange reason I hadn’t slept the night before, in fact I hadn’t have a good night sleep in months so I was exhausted and apparently that was the day my bodydecided it was time to collect the bill for the sleepless nights, infinite amounts of caffeine, and brain bullying I exposed myself to (yeah, brain-bullies actually exist and I ´m a proud member since pretty much the day I was born) Against my desires, I got up, took a shower, got dressed, cheerios for breakfast and left almost running. For the record, I’m a working student, that means I go to school at night (or at least used to) and work during the day. For obvious reasons, I can’t tell youmy name, last name or even the name of the company I work for, what I can tell you isthat I work at a family business. I’m my mom’s assistant, which basically translates tobeing a sad excuse for a secretary and mostly an errands girl. I was working really hard and thinking about the sudden turn my life had taken in solittle time, the thing about me is that when it comes to making a decision the difficult part is making up my mind, then I just follow through and I don´t look back.Well, like I said, I was working really hard (playing solitaire for three hours straight can really improve your logic skills…not) when suddenly I felt this sharp, breath-taking pain in my chest. I tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out so I just stood upand stumbled my way to my mom’s office.My mom is the clear example of a workaholic, when I got there she was on the phone,of course, her cell phone was ringing, her secretary was waiting for her signature, and there was the annoying little sound announcing the tons of reminders and e-mails shehad to read. After at least 15 minutes she finally looked at me and said “Hey baby, whyaren’t you working?” and I just said “Gee mom! I think I might have a heart attack, I’mdizzy, can’t breath and my chest hurts real bad, but you know what? Customers first right!?” when I finished the sentence and tried to walk away…it all went blank.When I woke up I thought I was in heaven, everything was white and there was thecutest looking guy checking me out (ok, checking my vital signs is more like it…but still cute is cute), but then it just hit me, the pain was really unbearable, I tried to sit and theroom was moving all around me, the guy said “Hey, you’re awake. How are you feeling” I Just said “Ehm…dude, I passed out, how do you think I’m feeling?” he just laughed and helped me lie down. My mom and my dad were sitting beside the bed, probably relieved that I could still manage a sharp response in spite of my state. I had several doctors and nurses around me, I was really annoyed, I hate people taking care of me. I grew up pretty much alone, my parents were to busy to worry why their seven-year-old was reading Anne Rice, Kafka and Poe instead of watching some Disneycrap and I had so many extra curricular activities: French, Karate, German, Pianolessons, you name it. I quit almost all of them by the time I was a preteen, but still no

kid should go through that and don’t even know how to ride a bike, which by the way I still don’t.The cute doctor left me in observation, I spent three days with my breasts bouncing fromone place to the other, and I still can’t believe all those tests required the lack of bra…but they were heart test so I guess it makes a little bit of sense. I was going berserk by the third day. My parents, of course, just visited me for one or two hours and spent at least 45 minutes on business calls…Hell! My mom’s secretaryeven called to my room because her cell was out of bat. I was bored and depressed,once the first traitor tear fell of my eyes a whole battalion followed and I couldn’t stop. Later, that day, my mom came to pick me up and was truly worried, she even took meand my brother to a fancy restaurant to cheer me up, I couldn’t even eat, the sobswouldn’t stop. Hell broke loose inside of me. Weeks went by and I only got worse, I’vealways been strong, I’ve always taken care of myself, I’ve always fought against theodds…and yet there I was, Iron girl was rusting and there was nothing she could do.

Ok, so…here I go, Mi name is X, I’m no longer a teenager, now I’m a labeled as ayoung adult.Apparently, once you turn 18, you are no longer the misunderstood teen-tortured-soul,so you’re expected to just shape up and live to meet your parents´ expectations OR…you can be like me. I´m soon turning 21 and let me tell you something…I haveabsolutely no idea if that’s the way the world revolves, or the way my life is meant to beor maybe something got really twisted during kindergarten, but I´m still pretty muchthat teen-tortured-soul, which, if I´m being honest, I´ve pretty much been my wholedamn life.Some of you might wonder why a couple of hours ago I decided to spit my story and leta bunch of strangers (no offense intended) read it. Long story short, last week I wentover to Dr. Zea´s clinic and he told me that I needed to express myself and let things go;I needed to approach people and let them know me instead of hiding in my usualsarcastic-ironic-self.Indeed, you could think I’m cheating on my psychiatrist (Did I mention that’s what Dr.Zea does for a living?...well, yeah, she treats loons like me and tries to turn them intofunctional citizens) due to the fact that instead of letting actual people (again guys, nooffense intended) TALK to me I’m just hiding behind a screen letting my guts out, butcut me some slack I haven’t really trusted anyone in a very, very, very loooooong timeso, baby steps and all that crap.Ok, so now you know the motives hidden behind this innocent blog, but I bet you arewondering in what kind of mess I got that led me to a shrink, who led me to thisunorthodox way of expressing my anonymous-self.

Meet Ana and Mia…

When I was in elementary, I was a fatty so there always was the occasional kidreminding me about it. I really didn’t mind at all, but still my mom had to give me her “improve yourself speech”, which is kind of harsh when you are 9 and don’t think having a little extra is wrong, but still she took me to a nutritionist and I went on a diet.When you are a kid the least you want to do is quit candy, I have a sweet tooth, soimagine how I felt. I spent almost six months on a diet and of course there wereoccasions in which I just couldn’t say no, lost control and ate like a pig. I couldn’t standthe disappointed look my mother gave me when I didn’t lose the weight I was supposedto, that’s when I met Mia.Mia has been with me for a long time, she’s the kind of friend that always sticks aroundand comes to your rescue when you do something stupid, although, you pay a reallyhigh price for her friendship; you become an addict to her presence, and she´s your relief. You can’t let her go.Yep, I’m talking about my good old friend Bulimia. I began my friendship with her when I was 9, occasionally asking for her help, it was all under control until I turned 12and she absorbed me, I started to look pale, had huge purple shadows under my eyes,was always cold and my clothes couldn’t look baggier.One day, I was doing my daily throw-up routine, when my mom walked into the bathroom, I will never forget the horror face she had when she saw me puking my gutsout. Of course, I was sent immediately to the doctor, he said that I had done a prettygood damage to my throat and my stomach, but since I hadn’t been doing it for longthere was no imminent danger, she advised my mom to send me to a psychologist.During my year of elementary, I was even placed in the advanced students program,which, if you must ask, totally sucked. They took the so called “smart, pretty and sportykids” and separated them from the rest, which only guaranteed future cheerleaders andstuck up jocks with good grades and an ultimate superiority complex.After Mia and I took a break, things changed. I challenged teachers all the time, listenedto really loud music, skipped classes, and vandalized school property among other things. Because of my behavior I was considered a bad influence for the group,therefore, no longer advanced program material anymore. They practically kicked meout and sent me to another group, this time for trouble making kids.My new group cool and all, but were major league; honestly, they made my behavior look like a nun’s. Things got a lot more interesting; school stopped being the placewhere I just waited for half of the day to go to waste and became my source of forbidden entertainment.Deep down I knew the things I was doing weren’t exactly the best, they weren’t evegoo, but I just enjoyed getting back at my mom. She always made me feel like no matter what I did it was never enough, I wasn’t smart enough, pretty enough, quiet enough.She was always expecting more or telling me that I had a lot of potential and didn’t take