The day I stopped singing in the shower

Prologue

I don't exactly remember the day I stopped singing in the shower. But I do remember the day I realized that I had stopped doing it.

I just came from the gym. I was covered in sweat and that made me instantly feel good. I was exhausted, zero energy in my system, every muscle in my body aching. The aroma of food invading the house immediately greeted me, making my mouth water. I wasn't planning on having dinner, so I tried to pass by the kitchen as fast as possible.

It was extremely foolish for my part to believe I was going to achieve my goal without being seen. I forgot my mom had eyes at the back of her head.

"Martina?" she called without looking my way, bent down staring at something in the oven.

"Yes, mami?" I answered with my most angelical voice and the spanish nickname she used to love when I was a child.

She turned to glance at me, a smile on her face. She was wearing an apron and gauntlets on her hands. She removed a golden lock of hair from her forehead while she stood.

"I made chicken. Look, just how you like it." She said vividly with a grin, nodding towards the oven.

"I already had dinner with the girls, mamá, I'm sorry." I lied so fast that I didn't even know how I had the time to think of an excuse. It came so easily. I guess I was getting better each day. 'Practice makes perfect' they say.

"Oh." The look of disappointment in her eyes as her smile faded. I knew she was barely at home, always at work and she never had the opportunity to cook for us. She glanced at her feet before looking back at me. "Well, I guess I'll keep you some for tomorrow."

"Sounds good." I tried my best to put on a smile before I started walking towards the stairs.

"Martina!" She whisper-shouted.

I popped my head round the door and raised my eyebrows as if asking what she wanted.

"Forget it, sorry." She shook her head.

"You know I hate it when people do that. I don't want to live with uncertainty, mamá." I said faking anger, amusement clearly in my eyes.

"You're so dramatic." She said rolling her eyes. "Papá has a headache and he's already sleeping and I was just gonna say don't sing in the shower, but I realized you don't do that anymore."

She shrugged before turning around again and continued cooking. I just stood there, paralyzed, thinking about her statement.

Was that true? Did I stop singing?

I used to do that a lot. In the shower, in the streets, in class, while doing my homework.

I used to be a really loud person. Some people found me annoying, and I enjoyed it. I liked being the center of attention and I loved my confidence. I was really talkative and as I mentioned, I was always singing. It might be a tiny, insignificant thing, something most people would not give much importance, but for me it was. I knew it meant so much more than just stopping singing.

I can't really point out what changed in me, but I began to feel more self-conscious and insecure about myself. I had that part in me that was a very nervous, perfectionist person. I had to be doing something every second of the day, and I liked to have control of everything I did. I supposed that's why I became so anxious.

Eventually, I started eating like crap. I thought it wasn't bad at the time, every teenager did it. A pizza every now and then, burgers on Fridays when we got out.

I guess it all became a problem when I couldn't remember what I had eaten. There was this force that came over me, that made me eat and eat and eat, and I wasn't capable of controlling myself. It was like I was in a trance, and after I got out of that state, I couldn't remember exactly what I had just done, what I had just put into my body. And I hated it. It was scary to say the least. I was so afraid of that happening again, I became so obsessed about it, that I only made myself more anxious. I made that fear even worse.

Of course, I started gaining weight and I had the urge to lose it as fast as possible. I did lots of things. Things that I didn't regret. At all.

And that was what scared me the most.

While I did those things, I normally hid myself. Why? Because I knew they weren't healthy. I knew they were wrong. I knew my family and friends would worry and I knew they would make me stop doing them. And I didn't want that. I needed to lose that weight.

But the sudden commentary of my mom, made me realize something. I wasn't singing, because I wasn't happy. I had lost myself. I wasn't that bubbly and spontaneous girl I was before. I was anxious, irritable and tired. Tired of fighting against those impulses that consumed me and transformed me into another person. Tired of being mean to myself, of all the unachieved goals and all the punishments that came afterwards. I felt exhausted. I didn't laugh that often. I didn't cry either.

Until today.

"Mamá." I mumbled. My voice cracking as the word escaped my mouth. I looked down at my hands and stared at my wounded and thin fingers. They were shaking. Tears at the corners of my eyes menacing to fall.

She turned in my direction. My eyes meeting hers. The worry and fear in them showing she wasn't expecting my sudden reaction. Tears began falling down my face. She opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off. I took a deep breath. I couldn't believe what I was going to say.

"I think I need help."

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