From Broken to Beautifully Broken

The bird let out of the cage

The summer before sophomore year, I spent most days prepping for my life's new big change. I got contacts instead of glasses. I went shopping for real clothes instead of uniforms and most importantly I had a procedure done called dermabrasion. My original plastic surgeon had told my parents that at some point down the line we could smooth out some of the lines and raised scars on my face but that it wasn't necessary until I asked for it. This was the summer I asked for it. The procedure was quick. Same day, in and out. Maybe 2-3 weeks of recovery with no sun on the new skin. This was my shot at a clean slate. No one knew me in this school, besides my best friend down the street. I was nervous and anxious and mostly excited.
On the first day of my new school, my new public school, I had the same anxiety I did from last year's first day of school. Every single fear I had from last year, came to the surface once again. The only difference with this time was that I did have someone to walk in with, my best friend. Instead of smiling at everyone and trying to make everyone want to be my friend, I walked in that building with a stone cold face. I actually don't think that I even knew I wasn't smiling. It was like my body went into crisis management and I was on autopilot. My body language screamed confidence mixed with a little mystery. On that very first day of school, in the very first steps I took into the building, I was surrounded by people. Mostly boys. The girls stood close by with looks on their faces like they had to solve the mystery in the next Nancy Drew book.
"Who is she? Where did she come from? How old is she? Did she just move to town? Does she have a boyfriend?" The questions were thrown at my best friend left and right as if I couldn't speak for myself. With a voice I had to pull from the depths of my stomach, I answered them all.
"Elisa . I came from a Catholic school. I am 15. I've always lived here. And no." Within seconds boy after boy introduced themselves. Ok, to be fair, it was more like 5 or 6 boys, but to me, at that time, it felt like 100. A few of the girls were so kind to me and honestly they are still my friends today. The other girls didn't like that I was the "fresh meat" and stealing all the attention. As each class passed I had more and more people introduce themselves. Word spread about me before I even made it to lunch. I was invited to my first party that weekend and I had a seat at a table with PEOPLE at lunch. I was officially cool. People liked me. Now I had to figure out what in the world one does when attending a high school party.
I was on cloud nine. Seriously. I had people who wanted to be my friends, guys who had asked for my phone number AND I was going to my first "kegger". I went to my best friend's house after school and she gave me a crash course on how to be cool. I couldn't blow this!
During that week I allowed the boys the opportunity to exchange numbers with me, but no way in hell was I calling them. I was way too nervous for that and I wasn't ready to deal with that kind of anxiety. To my surprise,this made the boys call me and chase after me more!! More and more girls I had classes with warmed up to me and I had some really great friendships already beginning. Friday came way faster than I was ready for. I changed my outfit 1,000 times, and finally walked to Layla's house so we could go together. We were 15 so we still needed someone to drive us around. Uber did not exist then, unfortunately. Both of our moms drove us to the party and we were ADAMANT about them dropping us off a block away so no one saw us get out of our parents car. We actually asked them to wear hats as well, but that deal was off the table. I was physically ill. My hands were shaking, my stomach was in knots and I think my teeth were chattering, not from being cold but from having an actual panic attack. So much weighed on what happened that night. What if people saw through my facade and realized I was a loser. This was make it or break it and if I didn't make it I had no other schools to run to. I would have to stick this one out for 3 more years whether I liked it or not. I guess I could also make my parents move right?
I walked into the party and was greeted with a red solo cup filled with the most disgusting smelling beer. Think, skunk in a cup. As it was handed to me, the beer sloshed around in the cup and was spilling all over the place. Music was blasting and people were everywhere. The front yard was filled with people, the backyard and even the inside of the house! People were smoking weed in the backyard and doing keg stands in the far corner of the yard. I would secretly spill a little of my beer every step I took so it looked like a drank that cup of cheap beer. When people asked me if I wanted to smoke, I just replied with "yea, in a little bit". You see, I WAS still the same girl as last year, but in order to make it through high school I had to fit in with these people.
As the months passed, I would still have anxiety when I missed a party or couldn't meet on the side street after school to smoke weed. I was nervous if the girls got together with the boys at someone's house and I couldn't make it. If I missed something that happened then when they talked about it the next day, I would be an outsider. Too many times of not being able to make it and I probably wouldn't even get invited anymore. I was so scared that with one small mistake,with one wrong move, I would be back to scarface. I was spiralling with anxiety. In actuality, I had more anxiety now then last year. Last year I was at rock bottom. This year I had something to lose. I could not go backwards and needed to start engaging in some activities that I was previously avoiding. It was the only way to stay relevant.
Halfway through Sophomore year, is when it all changed for me. I became a popular girl, and I now played the part well. My pants got tighter, skirts shorter, tops smaller. I dyed my hair and went tanning. I secretly got my bellybutton pierced and went into NYC to get a tattoo. I dated boys that were popular even though I didn't like them. I got my nails done and not only did I not miss a party, I started throwing my own. I would sneak people into my basement windows so they could hide all the alcohol they brought from my parents. I mastered keg stands, and making O's while I blew out the smoke from my cigarettes. I was a pro at rolling joints or packing bowls and I knew all the people to buy from. I would leave school on my lunch periods with the seniors to have liquid lunches. That was when you drank alcohol for lunch and then chewed an entire pack of gum before heading back into the building. Which, by the way, was not easy. It was like real life 007 finding the door we left open with a book to get back in and avoid the cameras. I had a pager to match every pair of pants and always carried a pack of cigarettes in the waist band of my pants. I was no longer pretending to be cool. I was cool. I was like a bird let out of its cage. I had new found popularity and I didn't know how to reign it in. The thing is, I didn't ACTUALLY like smoking or drinking. I did it to keep my anxiety at ease. I was constantly worried about making sure I was still cool. My anxiety level was a 10 constantly thinking about the choices I had to make to stay relevant. When I drank or smoked, my anxiety lessened. I didn't worry as much and life was just easier.