I don’t know how to say it, or where to begin.

I guess technically it started a long time ago… but that’s another story.

I am afraid to share it, but it is a big chunk of why I haven’t been blogging.

I am not sure I will ever be able to completely separate myself from it though.

So here it is…

The week before midterm break is a blur.

I took a lot of NyQuil, slept a lot, cried a lot… could not deal with a lot.

My anxiety was through the roof.

My mood swings were intense.

I remember walking into my room that Saturday night, I was upset, I picked up a vase, and then I heard the smash.

It shattered everywhere.

I had no intentions of throwing it.

But I did.

The next day, my anxiety was still really high. 

It felt like there was a boa constrictor wrapping itself around me. I couldn’t breathe.

So I sat in the dorm lobby and watched this frame of water.

I watched the water fall for a while, blaring music in my ears.

The dean came.

The one that knows me well.

It boiled down to one thing.

She was taking me to be assessed.

I fought it.

Not because I was afraid I would have to stay there, but because I was afraid of what to tell my family.

I didn’t want to tell them.

And so it happened.

I was assessed, and for the millionth time, I was told I have recurring major depression.

I was informed that I would have to stay.

They said 3 – 4 days at the most.

I was there for 9 days.

Honestly?

It felt safe.

I was angry at first.

But I met amazing people.

So now, I am on an anti-depressant, an anti-anxiety, and a mood stabilizer.

This is my life now.

Student teaching, counseling appointments, psychiatrist appointments, and medicine.

I am exhausted.

Trying to force myself to interact with people.

Trying to force myself to get things done. 

It has been a month now, and they are still concerned about me.

This too shall pass.

Right?

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