Lexi T.

Photography by Ally Szabo

If you’re reading this know that your past may shape you but it does not confine you; be the author of your story.

Human beings have this innate draw to categorization. We look at people and their behaviors and shove them into these tiny boxes based on our perception. Large amounts of my life have been dedicated toward reinvention, killing the most authentic parts of my being. Growing up my authenticity was wielded against me like a weapon. Labels that were ascribed to me like worthless, weird, annoying, and invisible weighed me down like thousands of pounds. My self-perception was built upon the parts others hated the most. I felt like I never had a chance; when you are told every day that you are worthless and a waste of space, how do you feel like you’re anything different?

My head is like a battleground: chaotic, unrelenting, and loud. I have spent most days of my life stuck in there, picking apart every single interaction, aspect of my appearance, my entire character, and it never stops. Every time I swim to the surface for air I am drowned again by the doubt, the suffering, and the past. I have spent my entire life in these waters and sometimes it feels like losing the ability to see the light at the end of the surface or being too tired to swim up again for air.

In high school, I decided to give into plain existence and be who others wanted me to be. I lived but never felt alive. I became hyper-aware and self-conscious as I felt like I was walking around with a dark cloud over my head that everyone could see. Out of fear of being a burden or further ridiculed I oppressed my emotions and my experiences, opting for a “cheery” exterior. I began to fight a silent battle, grappling with these experiences alone.

When I came to college, I was very uncertain, because deep down inside I didn’t know who I was, as I never gave myself the space to figure it out. Freshman year of college my mental health hit its all-time low. I never hated myself more. I felt trapped in the boxes, labels, and statistics, and came to the conclusion there was no chance for me. I was never going to be happy; I would never look in a mirror and be pleased with the reflection, I would never amount to anything, and ultimately I would continue to be alone. My anger, frustration and hate with myself was unbearable. Despite it all, I began to find people and spaces who brought out the best parts of me. Who reminded me of all the good I had that I couldn’t see.

For most of my life, I felt like I was stuck in a singular box with the label “broken” and that this label was all I would ever be, because what is broken cannot be fixed. I continued to fight most of my battles in silence, but I have learned it’s ok to speak out. For the longest time, I viewed my struggles and experiences as character flaws. I believed I would never amount to something greater than the sum of my darkest parts. However, I have come to realize I am good in spite of it, and that takes much more strength. I would be a liar to say that I don’t still grapple with my anxiety and depression, or self-hate because I do, however that’s ok. Healing isn’t linear and doesn’t mean that everything will suddenly be ok, it’s a process. For me, it means that I have learned to find the good in the bad. I have been taking active steps to discover who I am, while giving myself the room and grace necessary for growth.

If you are reading this I thank you, and want to leave you with one final anecdote: We are a mosaic of our experiences. The happy, the sad, the good, the bad, and the indifferent. One moment, one experience, is part of our composition but it is not who we are. We get to define that, and where it will take us in the future.

With Love,

Lexi.

Lexi T., Villanova University

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