A long time ago, in a galaxy far away (i.e. about a year ago) a young woman, 20 years old, had recently come back to her home town. She got two jobs, started taking classes online, and loved reconnecting with friends and family members.
More rapidly than anyone could have anticipated, that came to a screeching halt.
Suddenly, her bed felt like a prison that she couldn’t get out of. The world was holding her there, crushing her with its gravity. A giant hole grew inside of her mind. Each day grew harder and harder. Work days became spattered with escapes to the bathroom so that she could have a minute alone to cry. Everything was overwhelming, and explaining her feelings to her ever-concerned loved ones was completely impossible.
I was a chasm of emptiness, anger, frustration, and fear. She was me. Now I wish I could write and tell you that it’s all better now. I got help and now I’m all better! But it’s not like that. I struggle every day with my mental illnesses.
I’m not here to sugarcoat anything.
Anxiety sucks.
Depression sucks.
But I’m here to keep trying. And to help you to do the same.
