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“Of all people, you know who I am. Who the world needs me to be. I’m Wonder Woman.”
Growing up, I was blessed to have a strong mother as my role model. There was nothing that my mom couldn’t do in my eyes and everything she did she did wholeheartedly. My mother never did anything bad. She was a hard worker, intelligent and beautiful. She never took a sick day and she never complained. When I grew up, I wanted to be everything my mom was. My mother was Wonder Woman to me and so much more. There was nothing she couldn’t accomplish, and she never let me down. When I brought home my first B after I had just started school, I remember her saying, “You can do better than this.” She was right, and I knew she was. From then on out, I only strived for the best grades, and I never gave up on anything because I had such a great fear of disappointing my mother.
All throughout high school, I was extremely involved, and I never made anything lower than an A. I volunteered in my community, I participated in school events and, most importantly, I focused on my school work. I wanted my academics to pay for my schooling and then some, which I achieved but at a cost. In spite of doing all of this in order to make my mom happy, I had totally lost sight of who I actually was and what I wanted. Of course, I wanted to make my mom happy, but I was suffering from severe anxiety and an undiagnosed mood disorder which made everything much harder for me.
My senior year, I finally broke down. Between Dual-Enrollment Calculus and English, what seemed to be a nearly impossible college-level Biology class and going through a terrible break-up, my anxiety was resulting in bodily harm. I had stomach ulcers and acid reflux problems that came almost out of the blue. I dropped ten pounds because I was so stressed. I wanted to stay strong. I needed to make my mom happy. That is what I wanted more than anything. Except, one day I came home and collapsed on the floor in front of my mom, crying, “I can’t do this anymore.”
While I study psychology now, my family has never been the type to talk about mental health. For a while, my father was on antidepressants; however, it was never spoken about because he was so embarrassed. I expected my mother to tell me to be stronger and that I was just being dramatic, but instead, she cried right along with me. It was at this point that I realized my mom was human, too. Of course, when you are little, you think your parents are superheroes, but as you grow up, you start to see the human side of them. I had seen the human side of my mom for a long time, but this was more than I had ever seen. I was shocked at her response.
My mom agreed that I would benefit from seeing a therapist. At first, I was extremely nervous, but I ended up going. I loved my therapist. I still do, even though I do not have to see her anymore. She taught me so much about other people and myself that I never knew was possible. I learned to love myself and how to say “no” to other people. I learned to actually be myself and appreciate myself as a person rather than always trying to be someone else. I grew from my experience mentally, physically and emotionally; without my mom’s acceptance and love, I don’t know that I would have made it.
With this new-found self-love, as I started college, I wanted to join everything and do everything. I wanted to be involved on campus, a part of everything, while also maintaining my grades. By the end of my freshman year of college, I found myself re-evaluating once more what was important to me after I received my first two B’s and my mental health was slowly receding once more, but this time, I listened to my body, and I knew what it needed.
For the first time, I accepted that I was not Wonder Woman, no matter how much I wanted to be. I knew that I could not possibly do everything and be involved in everything and still put forth my all in everything I did. Even if my personality and heart are big, there still wasn’t enough of me to go around because, at the end of the day, it left me empty. There was nothing left for me. That wasn’t self-love. With grace, I accepted my defeat and self-realization. I am human, and that is okay. It is okay that I make mistakes. It is okay that I have a mood disorder and anxiety. It is okay that I am emotional. It is okay that I am not strong enough. It is okay that I do not have enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do. It is okay that I am not okay. It is okay that I will never be Wonder Woman, no matter how much I want to be. I know at the end of the day, I have family and friends who love me for who I am, even if I am not perfect, and that is enough for me.