My days always consisted of waking up, sitting on the edge of my bed for 10 minutes just thinking about how I could try to get the courage to stand up and get in the shower so I know my day has officially started. As I finally tremble to stand up, I slowly walk into the bathroom, avoiding looking in the mirror, taking my shower, brushing my teeth, and getting dressed. The next step was the hardest step, and that was to leave my room and talk to my mom, who only wanted to know how my night was. I would always tell her, "fine," but I could tell she knew something was wrong with the way that I said it today.

The clock hit 6:50 and it was time to leave for school. I get in my car and don’t even turn on the music anymore, I just go. I pull into the school parking lot, knowing I only have about 25 minutes to summon the courage to enter the building I dreaded the most. My time was up and I walked into the building knowing these upcoming 8 periods were going to be pure pain. But just like any other day, I pushed through it. 

Leaving school felt like a weight on my shoulders had been lifted. When I got home, I tried to avoid my mom, which was easy some days and harder on others. But today she got me and I wasn’t in the mood, so I walked into my room and stayed there until dinner, which I hated because it meant time with the family. 

I think mom had realized that I wasn’t acting like myself because on most days I would talk to her and I would laugh and tell her stories about my day, so when I walked out of my room, she told me to get in the car. I wasn’t sure why, and now she was the one who wasn’t talking to me, although I didn’t mind. Ten minutes later, we pulled into a Chili's parking lot, and I loved their mac and cheese, so I was not complaining. 

When we went inside I heard her say a party of 10 to the waiter I looked at her very confused and we walked around the corner and there was my entire gymnastics team. My brothers. Being with them was the only time I felt happy and like myself. But thankfully I wasn’t blind enough to realize what my mom had done for me.

I remember thanking her when we got home and asking her why? She told me that I hadn’t acted like myself for the past 2 weeks. I don’t know why, but I didn’t realize that I kept trying to avoid her for weeks. I just broke down. I told her how I was feeling. She understood and to this day I make it a mission to tell her about my day and not keep her in the dark anymore.