It’s truly crazy to think that ten years ago I was sitting at the Seattle Children’s Inpatient Care being told I was released on remission. I distinctly remember the huge sense of relief as I released a cathartic cry, face covered in the palms of my hand. I had been stunned by a diagnosis that I never saw coming and purely petrified by my surrounding environment. Finally I could run back to school and give my friends a hug after a truthfully traumatic two weeks. Little did I know, medication adjustments and high school stigma would rob me of a normal senior year experience. 10 years later I sit here writing this with a warm cup of coffee, looking at the water from my parent’s deck as I reflect on the last ten years. I’ve learned so much about myself and other people. As each remission year has come and gone, I’ve celebrated my ability to stay on my medication and develop successful habits that have given me the healthy and happy life since October 2011.
However, it truly wasn’t until this year that I started doing what is most important. I was so busy the first few years out of high school through now trying to reinvent myself to realize what was necessary. While I’d gone through the motions of my physician’s instructions to a perfect T, I had never actually let go of the pain of my tragic senior year. I never wanted to acknowledge how angry I was about a diagnosis that I felt ruined my life and everything that happened. There was no active reflection on my experience. I suppressed my feelings and kept pushing forward instead. So here’s a little insight to my journey the last ten years.
The minute I threw up my graduation cap, I was determined to erase the identity I felt I attained when I got back to school from treatment. Every single conversation I had at home turned into something about medication or doctors appointments. I couldn’t escape it and I couldn’t stand it. Based on the rumors that went around, social drama that occurred and some uncharacteristic social media posts, I felt I had gone from high energy jokester, to socially awkward high school lunatic. My reputation felt completely knocked and I felt completely unlovable/undatable. I was so embarrassed by my new identity that I began hiding in the bathroom during passing periods so people would stop looking at me. It became too intimidating to walk up to circles of friends as I was afraid my sheer presence would embarrass people, I dreaded sitting at lunch for the same reason. I became a nervous, frozen home body. If dances came along, I’d desperately try to go away for that weekend, for I thought no high school boy would associate with a girl who suffers mental health issues. I even tried to not go to prom. Every time I typed out a text to ask a friend to hangout, I would immediately erase the draft because I didn’t want to be an inconvenience or in their way. I felt like all I did was cause problems for everyone that year, so I figured they were better off without me. It was truly the loneliest time of my life, to this day I have not been that miserable. I was convinced everyone hated me. Everything that happened that year was so humiliating that I went as far as to BEGGING my parents not to tell other people who knew me I was their daughter. The thought of my name coming out of a person’s mouth one more time was too over whelming. It felt like my life had been on the cover of the National Inquirer.
Throughout college, I spent far too much time running from my past. The trauma and painful experiences of senior year really screwed me up. Instead of speaking to therapists to process and grieve my year, I coped by erasing instead of facing. My senior year was so hard that I couldn’t look at pictures of myself from that time, listen to music from that year or wear anything I owned. It just all hurt way too much. By freshman orientation, I had deleted absolutely everything from high school off social media, erased playlists and donated all my clothing. Essentially, I did a total revamp. Everything was a trigger.
In high school I was known as a “theater kid” and always planned on pursuing my singing and acting. However, I couldn’t get myself to put in the proper work I needed to for my auditions or classes for my theater major. I made the decision to drop my theater major and I completely quit singing. It simply made me too sad and reminded me of the way things used to be. My energy was placed into my appearance, partying and being a campus socialite. My social media posts became incredibly calculated as I kept trying to prove to those at home I “wasn’t that person” anymore. It was for misdirected reasons, I figured that if I changed, people wouldn’t try to take advantage of me or hurt me again. I was turning into a superficial person because that was all that I could handle.
I denied any date or set up that came my way in college because I just didn’t want my life to feel complicated. And honestly? Based on bad experiences in the past, I didn’t trust their intentions nor did I believe they were actually interested. I assumed it was a joke on me. I felt that if I was anything like the person I was my last year in high school, no guy would find me attractive that way. While looking at other couples I deeply envied people that didn’t have a mental health issue to disclose. They didn’t have a disorder some may run from or consider a “deal breaker.” I also knew I was missing out on great opportunities for relationships, but I refused to let myself go there.
My new identity became so important to me, that out of sheer fear, I didn’t stay in touch with friends from high school as much as I’d like. I was so embarrassed and felt like I was a nuisance, so I felt that they were better off. Each break I came home for as little time as possible and picked up shifts at a local coffee shop so I wouldn’t run into anyone. No matter how much I missed each friend, I just couldn’t do it. I wanted to spare them. In order to survive, I shoved my past away instead. I regret that to this day, because those friends were incredibly loyal and saved my ass that year.
Despite what I ever predicted, I moved back to Seattle in 2017. After enough time had gone by and visits home I began reconnecting with people. Before each hangout, I got this nervous feeling inside thinking, “I hope to God they don’t remember what happened to me or that they aren’t embarrassed by me.” I was an absolute nervous wreck about it, I prayed to God they didn’t think I was crazy. Based on every reconnection or interaction I learned a huge lesson. People are far more supportive than you think. And after those interactions I realized I created that unnecessary anxiety in my own head. My lack of ability to walk into my own trauma had unintentionally sabotaged my once supportive connections. My fears caused me not only to distance myself from fantastic people, but I was trading who I truly was for a superficial identity that I aspired to be for no other reason than my own ego. And that was a grave mistake that I learned the hard way.
After reconnecting with these fantastic friends, I learned that you can still push through and move on while still acknowledging that some situations are extremely difficult, unfair and out of our control. No matter how hard of a time, reaching out to people is much more beneficial than we anticipate. Even though it can be scary, it is worth it. Walking into our own issues and allowing to grieve is scary, but necessary. It all happens at our own pace, but I will freely admit that my pride got in the way of doing this sooner. At the end of the day, facing our own issues head on, while difficult is incredibly freeing. I am still working on this process daily and feel more free than ever before. In the last couple years, I’ve dipped my toes back into my passions such as singing and acting, and I have never felt happier or more myself. I’m back to that ridiculous, high energy jokester I was at the very beginning of my senior year of high school. Just more settled, wise and mature (God I would only hope).
I write this to let others know they are not alone and that more importantly, I never want them to feel the way I did. While it is completely normal to be scared after a mental health diagnosis, it is important to remember that you are no different than someone who suffers Diabetes or Crohn’s Disease. You NEVER have to change your identity, no matter the illness or situation. There has been a massive cultural shift in the last ten years with mental health awareness, which I find amazing. There is much more of an open conversation and I see schools not only discussing mental health more openly, but handling each student’s diagnosis in a much more appropriate manner.
I’m no mental health expert myself, but if there is any advice to those struggling, I would tell them the following:
Listen to your doctors and keep on your medication.
You are NOT crazy.
You are NOT your diagnosis, you are just like everyone else.
What people think of you is none of your business.
Hold on to those who support you, no matter how much you want to hide.
Always ask for help, whether it be a friend or a therapist. Another ear can only help.
NEVER under any circumstances stop doing or get rid of things that either make you who you are or make you happy.
People are far more supportive than you ever think, do not let the fear in your head deter you.
We are not our past nor can we change it. However we can learn from it and use it to become the person we want to be.
Trust and respect are EARNED. While you do not want to close yourself off, it is important to associate with those who have your best interest. Most people are good, but watch for that snake in the grass (I’ve learned the worst ways).
My approach to my own mental health issues has made massive strides. However, it is a work in progress, but really, what isn’t? At the end of the day, we are all just trying to be the best we can and that’s what counts. Because we’re all fighting something, it’s how we react and treat one another that counts.
Be well and remember,
#PushThrough
