I'm Not Just A Number

You may have noticed that lately Happiness Equals Bracket has been wrapped up with Cranes For Hope Project tighter than my mother wraps my peanut butter sandwiches - and that's tight. We've been breathing it, sleeping with it, eating with it and even - oh yes - studying with it. And it's an amazing feeling to know that we've only just skimmed the surface of I suspect might be a deep, teeming, life-changing pool.

But today's post is something that's been burning a hole in my mind for ages. And although it has nothing to do with cranes, it has plenty to do with hope. The story I'm about to tell involves a gym, a betrayal, rather annoying girls, and salad. It's also extremely long, but I want you to trust me, and stick with me to the end of this. Yes, I'm sure you readers are already hooked and dying of suspense, but perhaps the most important part of this story is that it isn't a story. It really happened - happened to a close friend of mine, who struggled through the darkest tunnel and came out smiling on the other side. I can't tell you her name, but I can tell you that she is one of the most inspiring people I know, a wonderful girl who taught me getting knocked down is nothing if you pick yourself right back up.

"It's scary how the little things in life end up making up your life." 
Rose (let's call her Rose, I just watched Titanic!) is a seventeen year-old girl that isn't very different from the rest of us. She goes to a respectable school, has a little brother whom she loves and hates, and deeply dreads the coming of the HSC. But although she is one of the sunniest people I know,  Rose understands very well how dark and agonising life can be.

It began with the gym - the meeting place where rock-hard abs and steel biceps socialise. Unfortunately I've never been invited, but Rose had a love for aerobics and so she went to the gym regularly. At first, she didn't pay much attention to the people around her. But eventually she started looking, and an uneasy, shameful feeling started creeping through her - inadequacy. 

"So many girls at the gym - toned girls, tanned girls, gorgeous, beautiful girls. I wanted so badly to be like them. I wanted to be better than who I was - to be perfect.” 


So one week Rose stopped eating junkfood - after all, it was unhealthy anyway, wasn't it? The next week she signed up for extra classes at the gym. The week after that, she ate a little less than she normally did, and what she ate consisted mostly of salad and no oil. And so it went on. At the end of each week, Rose hugged herself, took a breath and stepped onto the small scale. And every time the number dropped down, a combination of relief and joy coursed through her. 

She felt very much in control. 

I have to say this - Rose was always a slim girl. But the she began shranking down at half a kilo a week. When the numbers stopped decreasing, she cut the amount of calories she ate - going from the normal intake of 1800 a day to eight hundred calories. Over time, this started taking a grim toll. She didn't seem to have any energy or strength left, and sometimes felt bones in places she had never felt them before. 

Perhaps the most devastating part of this is that she looked at herself, but never realised how small and fragile she had become. She never saw the horrific way her ribs jutted out. 

She only saw a number that wasn't low enough, and a girl that would never be thin enough.

And then her mother saved the day, forcing an unwilling Rose to be treated for anorexia in hospital. Without a word to her friends, Rose put school on hold, living in hospital for a few weeks. To say it was unpleasant is probably like saying butter chicken tastes okay. We all know butter chicken is the glorious food of heavens, but hospital for Rose was a living prison.

Yet instead of resigning herself to defeat, Rose made a resolution and vowed, " I will get better. I will get stronger."

So although it nauseated her, she swallowed all the food they gave her, including the hated glass of full-cream milk at every meal. She clamped her feelings of disgust down when she weighed in and saw the figure slowly increasing. It was definitely not an easy time, and Rose struggled through black nights and long days. But she did it, and walked away three weeks later on her way to healing. 

However, this isn't a fairy tale story. There is no prince with ridiculously white teeth, and Rose did not get a happy ending surrounded by deer and rabbits. During her stay, she hadn't kept in contact with her friends - hopefully she could explain when she got back. There was a best friend, a girl she loved like a sister. A girl she had spent every weekend laughing, gossiping and bonding with. There was a clique that she had shared experiences with for five years. 


But when Rose waved in rollcall, her best friend avoided her eyes. And the clique cut her like she was contagious. Rose didn't understand why nobody answered her calls, why her old friends grimaced and turned around when she neared them. She couldn't believe how deep their betrayal cut - did five years of moments amount to nothing at all?


And through it all, she still struggled with her anorexia, telling herself over and over again that she was perfect the way she was, wanting to believe it. She did it alone. 


Then, when she least expected it, Rose came home one day to find the stress had also taken its toll on her mother. Badly frightened to find her mother huddled in the corner, Rose checked her into a hospital where she was diagnosed with depression.
Now mother, not daughter, was in hospital, and the responsibility fell to Rose to cook, clean and care for her little brother. And to pop the cherry on top of a fabulous year, assessments were looming. 


"I don't know how I did it," she tells me. "Sometimes I'd rush after school to buy groceries for the week, a bunch of flowers for mum. Without her, there was nobody to drive us, so I would have to take an hour-long bus to visit her every few days. Then I'd have to rush home to cook dinner for my brother, and maybe finally fit in a hour of study before, almost crying from exhaustion, I'd fall into bed."


But Rose never even considered skipping the visit to her mother, or not cooking for her brother. She loved them as best she could, despite everything, and never gave up on them - because to her, they were completely and unquestionable worth it. That is why I am still writing about this strong, vibrant girl. Also why, I hope reader, that you are still reading this long, well-deserved post.


So what happened in the end? Well perhaps its no fairytale, but it certainly measures up to a Oscar-winning finale. I am happy to say that Rose's mother has recovered from her illness, Rose herself is on her way to a healthy life and even discovered some true friends who, although she never spoke to much before her illness, stuck with her until the end. She now suffers again - this time through the horror of HSC assessments. 


Maybe you know a Rose - maybe you ARE a Rose. It's a scary thought that there so many teenagers like Rose around, in horrible, heart-wrenching situations that seem bleak.


Yet I hope they also share her smile, her fighting spirit, her perserverance. Despite everything, Rose is one of the brightest and liveliest people I know and always makes me laugh. If you are reading this Rose (and the odds are you are), I want to say that I am forever grateful our parents met, and I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me the most.
You are my inspiration.


Lindy and I will be bringing you, the Happiness Equals Bracket community, some new posts in the coming year! We'll be interviewing real people, who have a story to tell so that you can decide how to live your life! Our new page, Living My Life (surprise surprise) will be devoted to this issue :)


I'll  leave you with a few last words Rose spoke to me.
"I'm not just a number. It still hurts, but I'm finding out more about myself everyday, and I think the more I find, the more I like."
Always remember, Happiness Equals Bracket =)