I was born and raised Catholic, with a family who went to Church every week. I also went to Catholic schools, so the faith was constantly around me. Yet, growing up, I just wanted to fit in. I wanted to be popular, I wanted people to talk about me like they talked about the other girls. And all my life, I always felt like I was going to have to try harder to get people to like me because I wasn’t pretty like the other girls. I got teased a lot for what I looked like—it was always something in the back of my head in everything I did. Not good enough, not thin enough, not pretty enough. So, I told myself since people weren’t going to like me for what I looked like, I had to make them like me for something else. I let my friends make all the decisions, decide who we liked and didn’t like, who I’d invite to my birthday party, what I’d post on Instagram, and everything else. And I had this idea in my head that once I got them to like me for what I’m not, I could go back to being the real me and then they’d like me for that too. What I didn’t know back then is when you stand on the edge of a cliff, the longer you stand there, the more comfortable you become. And once you’re comfortable with being on that edge, it’s that much easier to fall.