Fiona S.
Photography by David Lee
Please Note: In her letter, Fiona writes about her personal experience with an eating disorder, bipolar disorder, and suicidal ideation. If you think this content may trigger you, we encourage you to take a pause before reading this letter, center yourself, and prepare any resources you may need to access after reading it. If you'd rather not read this letter, we encourage you to read a letter on a different topic. If you’re reading this, we support either choice you make.
If you’re reading this, you are already whole as you are.
Healing is a journey. It is a journey that is not linear. Healing encourages vulnerability in a way that shakes us up and changes the trajectory of our lives. My story broke its linear path the summer after my freshman year of college. That summer, I experienced a mental health crisis that put me in the hospital for two weeks. I truly hit my breaking point when I was alone on a hike in Colorado. Immersed in the mountains, I felt myself zoom out and feel grounded by nature. With each step I took, I felt myself becoming more and more grounded in nature and never wanting to come down.
I stride up the side of the mountain by myself, feeling the escape of the fresh air in nature and the grass brushing against my calves. These are the moments that I live for. The wind blows and makes a crisp sound against the uneven grass that my feet lay on. I lie in the grass and look around at the views of soft and jagged mountains. On the mountain, I begin to find myself as I get lost. Feeling like the only person in the world in this serene state of mind, selfishly, I hope I never make it to the bottom.
Later in the night, I listen to music and look at the stars and I just let myself go. I let myself cry the biggest cry that I have had in a while. I lie down on the mountain and look up at the stars, and I see a million little stars each with their own message. It feels like my life has been building to this moment. The box I put myself in to be unwilling to cry is finally being let go.
I am all alone on the side of the mountain and in my thoughts feeling so alone and unloved. As I lie down on the mountain, the thick grass engulfs me like a blanket and I feel underwater in my tears. I look up at the sky and focus on the stars instead of focusing on anything else going on in my life or the world. In an instant, I see a shooting star dart across the sky. The first shooting star I have ever seen before; I lie down on the grass and notice another shooting star. I feel like this is a sign that everything is going to be okay.
For so long, I did not know how to speak about my emotions or make myself heard. I was silently struggling with my mental health and felt like no one would understand. I had been battling an eating disorder for the past year and let myself suffer in silence. I felt like no one would understand what I was going through, so I let myself continue acting on behaviors while simultaneously hiding them. Coming home from Colorado that summer, I began to express the ways I was feeling to my friends and family. I soon after became hospitalized not just for my eating disorder, but for a manic episode that sent me into a spiral. I now had two diagnoses: an eating disorder and bipolar disorder. Consumed by stigma, I again felt alone and like there was no one I could talk to. I did not know if I could identify with these diagnoses, but at the same time, I felt engulfed in them like they stripped me of everything else I was.
I spent two weeks in the hospital, where I was forced to confront my emotions and get help. Living in a hospital room with limited privileges stripped me down to reestablish my sense of self. It was during this time alone in the hospital that I had to confront who I was and who I wanted to be. My self-esteem was so low and I felt isolated from everything and everyone around me. It was during this time that I questioned my worth and questioned if I wanted to be here anymore. I felt part of myself missing, and I felt almost like a shell of a person at the time.
I turned to art and writing which became outlets that I could use to express myself. Only having crayons in the hospital, I became immersed in the colors around me and used those colors to convey my feelings and emotions. I was able to rediscover the person I was losing and was able to again find what brought me genuine joy. Creativity let me redefine who I was and who I wanted to be and cultivate emotions of happiness again. For so long, I worked to shrink myself to fit into spaces and pushed myself down so I felt small. Focusing my time in the hospital on what would make me happiest, I spent time drawing, journaling, and reading, all things that brought me joy but that I had forgotten to devote time to.
I had the support of my family and friends and began therapy which made all the difference. Without the help of the people in my life, I would not be where I am today. I continued to practice vulnerability and voice my emotions with the people around me. People often say that things happen for a reason and that the things we go through in life make us stronger. While there are still things I would change about my experiences, they have allowed me to learn and grow into the person I am.
I want you to know that there is a way out to the other side even if there doesn’t feel like one. The universe looks out for us and our journey doesn’t end once we hit a breaking point. Instead, we can look up to see that the mountain isn’t so big after all and there is a way to the other side. That shooting star in the sky is telling us something, and the little things in life do have all the meaning in the world. Heal loudly and be bold; the world is so much bigger than the voice inside your head.
Fiona S., Boston College
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