Stars
Nonfiction by Mellissa Casallo-Wong
Self Reflection by Isabelle Loobie (2023)
Content Warning: Anorexia, mentions of mental illness
Ever since I was little, I have been fascinated by stars—so much so that I wanted to be one. I spent many sleepless nights lying on my bed, staring out my window, and getting lost in them. I never got tired of them as they illuminated the night sky with all their diversity; I wondered when I would take my place up there. I wanted to be seen by everyone; I wanted to be radiant, brilliant, gravitational, constant, and eternal. I wanted to be synonymous with perfection.
It was not possible to be a gigantic mass of plasma, but I could still be one in a metaphorical sense. My dream of becoming a star morphed into becoming a perfect girl; it became a personal mission of mine, and it began when I was eleven years old. It started small—just diets and light exercise—but with every workout, I felt closer and closer to perfection. With every pound dropped, I felt that much closer to reaching the stars. However, it was all a lie because it was never enough; there was always more that I could do. I could push myself harder; I could go a little longer. The more I could exercise, and the more calories I could restrict, the more weight I dropped.
No matter my weight, it did not improve my view of myself or my outlook on life. I would still face the mirror, and I would hate every flaw that seemed to appear on every inch of my body I looked at. Within a matter of months, I found myself at seventy-seven pounds; I became a walking cadaver. I was finally admitted to SickKids Hospital, where I was diagnosed with anorexia nervosa.
I spent the next few years battling this mental disorder, but there was no end to the compulsive exercising, the intrusive thoughts of controlling my diet, or the constant attempts to lose weight against my family’s and doctors’ wishes. They all persisted in the name of perfection. I constantly felt like I was lost in a vast, black void. What was I supposed to be? I spiralled into a state of depression and OCD. I am not sure if anyone would have noticed, but I felt I did not exist. Would you notice if a single star in the night sky disappeared? I spent the following few years hiding from the world, wondering where I would fit in the great vastness of space. Then, COVID-19 happened, and anorexia pulled me under again. I relapsed. I sank into the same hole. I was eternally suffering, waiting for someone to come and pull me out of the ocean I was drowning in.
Anorexia has a twisted way of gripping those who try to escape. It is a maze that seems impossible to navigate, much less escape. Was there a miracle? One day, I realized two things. First, no one can really save me except myself. I couldn’t wait for someone to come save me, because no amount of strength, intelligence, or beauty was going to be enough. It would have to be up to me to value my life and take a step forward to recovery. Second, I would never be perfect. Perfection does not exist, and what is “good” differs from one person to another. I don’t have to be perfect; I only need to be the best version of myself.
I realize I can still be a star, but it means something different to me now. Being a star now means being a beacon of light to the world—a guiding, gentle, and kind light. Those who face dark and troubling times can look upon me and find their way, feel caressed with love and compassion, and be filled with warmth and hope.
Everyone is a star; they all have their very own light. Mine had been dimmed for a long time, but it is time for me to shine in the sky again.
Mellissa Casallo-Wong is a first-year Life Sciences student at the University of Toronto Scarborough. After a lifetime of facing many hardships and retreating into the confines of her mind, she is now striving to turn her dreams into reality and hopes to share her experiences and wildest ideas with the world. Mellissa is taking her first-ever creative writing class, ENGA03: Introduction to Creative Writing.