Hi, I’m Gwen, and I don’t have my shit together.
The past month since I’ve been back at school has been a roller coaster of extreme highs and devastating lows. There have been moments when the world seemed to open up in front of me, like anything and everything was suddenly possible. There have been moments when it was everything I could do just to pull myself out from under the blankets. In less than 30 days, I had my heart broken and my hopes defeated, but I also had meaningful conversations and laughing fits that lasted for hours.
I don’t understand how I can be so sure of things one minute and so overwhelmed the next. Nothing ever registers as just “okay”; it’s either a day where I feel motivated and incredible and confident or a day where I wish I could melt into the floor. It seems that every aspect of my world is rewinding back into the silent-film era when everything was black and white.
Being a senior in college is hard for everyone. We’re bombarded on all sides by career fairs and grad school applications and incredibly challenging courses, all the while trying to enjoy the last taste of college life before we enter the real world. It’s exhausting, and it’s scary. And I’m doing all of those things while also trying to keep a whole slew of mental illnesses in check. It’s like running a marathon and making lasagna while also juggling a bunch of really breakable plates. If I take my eyes off the plates for one second, any one of them could hit the ground and shatter.
That’s kind of why I haven’t written in a while. This is a blog which I have dedicated tirelessly to my recovery, and it’s hard for me to write things that are meaningful when my moods are so unpredictable and my behaviors so erratic. I’m being slowly eroded by the effects of the insomnia that comes with my compulsions and the lethargy that comes with my depression, and I’ve been avoiding self-reflection because it hurts too much to look inside.
I dropped a class because I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t get any of the jobs I applied for. I tried to have a fun night out with my friends and ended up in the hospital with a nearly lethal BAC. I’m not going to be able to graduate on time. I spent two entire days in bed. I grew out of my favorite pair of jeans.
There, I said it. I admit it.
I don’t have my shit together.
But I’ve fought before, and I’ll fight again.