Ever since I was young, I have always had trouble around people. I could never put my finger on it for quite a while, but I always knew that no matter how close the an individual got to me – both physically and emotionally – I was never comfortable, and would always choose to run away. Never to tackle it head on.
It wasn’t until my teenage years that I realized I was struggling with anxiety. Everyday I would walk to school with my friends, laughing and joking, yet they were completely unaware how uncomfortable I felt, and how every corner I took felt an inch closer to a panic attack. I tried to look my best, smell divine, please anyone who crossed my path – yet I was never truly happy until I resided into solitude. My favorite part of every day: being alone after pretending to be someone else for hours on end.
During my teenage years, I also learned the truth behind a lot of the happenings in my childhood; why mothers and fathers marriage wasn’t written in the stars, why my step father had to leave, why we were moving houses every year and never went on holiday. It wasn’t the happenings which affected me, however. It was the way my family had been suffering in silence, especially my mother, a pain for which a woman does not deserve. Ever since I knew the truth – which I am grateful for learning, as it allows me to comfort my mother – I slowly divulged into a world of depression, from which I am still not free. My only joy in life was making those around me happy, and for when I was alone, I was a wreck. Substance abuse and bringing harm to myself was a dark path, which I was lucky to meet my first love who gave me a reason to stay healthy. The excitement, anticipation; the heartbreak, the pain. I was back to my old ways.
The only way I thought I was going to be happy again was to move away from my home, where all the memories and regrets dragged me into darkness day after day. When University rolled around, I was excited. I was excited to start a new life, make new friends and finally make peace with myself. It was short lived, however, as I quickly learned academia was not for me. For some reason, instead of dropping out, I stayed. I didn’t want to give up on my chance for a new life, more importantly, I couldn’t bare the thought of disappointing my family. They do not deserve to be disappointed.
So I continued, day after day, unhappy with what I was doing. I did make new friends – amazing friends who I will hold dear for the rest of my life – but I was slipping back into my old ways, my mental health deteriorating with vengeance. I was using any means necessary to distract myself, drinking, sleeping around, running, harming myself. Until she came along: a lady I have fallen madly for. Oddly enough, starting a relationship with this woman hurt me even more, as it was somebody else to hide the truth from. My mental health got worse and worse until recently I had a psychotic breakdown, harming myself, breaking down into tears and coming clean to my family, partner and friends.
Although I am not truly fixed, I am on the path to a better life, starting with this blog. Starting this blog has opened me up to a vast community of people with stories and struggles, just like me. I know my situation could have been a lot worse, and compared to most sufferers of mental health I got off lightly. This is where I want you to come in, contact me and share your stories with me, from which I can share to a community of souls of same and hearts of gold. Your story needs to be heard, everybody has that right.