I’ve always struggled with my mental health. (I know, I know…y’all are thinking “No shit.” Hear me out though). In fact, my freshman year of high school, it all but consumed me. But then it backed off. My sophomore year of high school is a special memory for me. That’s the last time I remember where I wasn’t symptomatic in some form. 13 years ago. I had hopes and dreams and confidence in myself. I had all the parts that made me, me.
And then the Epic Crash of 2013 happened. It was a gradual crash…kinda like watching a car accident in slow motion that lasts a good two years culminating in a fiery hell.
At least that is what it felt like.
In that Epic Crash, I lost me. The confident, positive, goal oriented girl who could look beyond the next 30 seconds. I lost my hopes and dreams for the future. I saw, and still do see, my past and future in the context of my mental illness. Instead of pushing myself to make the best of the situation, I’m waving the white flag and quietly saying “I give up.” I’m in denial that I’m giving up, but I’m pretty sure that is what is happening. I’m tired of waiting and watching for the next crash. It’s exhausting.