Being an adult was not what I expected it to be. It’s a
hectic and confusing mixture of happiness, pain, security, insecurity,
loneliness, and anxiety all at the same time.
Frequently, this voice in the back of my head tells me to
just give up, give in, stop trying, and just end it all. If I’m dead I don’t
have to worry about eating, sleeping, homework, failing, repaying thousands of
dollars in student loans, disappointing and burdening the people around me,
being abandoned, being hurt by others’ addictions and abuse. Sometimes the
voice makes a lot of sense, and sometimes it stays with me all night and keeps
me awake in a dark room. Alone. While people sleep. It tries to convince me to
hurt myself, because physical pain is easier to feel than emotional. It knows
how and when to bully me. It knows when I’m most vulnerable.
But what the voice doesn’t realize, is that it
underestimates me. I’m stronger than it thinks I am. I have a life where I can
choose to keep breathing for another day. The voice is good at making surviving
seem like the last thing I want to do, but I’m good at finding something to
stand for and sticking to it against opposition. The voice is good at
constantly telling me I’m alone, no one cares, no one is listening, and that I
will be abandoned. But I’m good at reaching out to people I trust and respect
for advice, help, and support. I’m good at trusting that people are good and
willing to listen and help until proven otherwise. And I know how to step away
from negative and poisonous people in my life. People that want to bring me
down and that need to see me fail to feel better about themselves.
I didn’t realize during my high school years that I was
learning what it means to be my own person. To believe what I know is true and
right, and to live it despite what others think or say. I didn’t realize that
my desire to connect with and confide in people older than me was helping me
safely distinguish between the people that really care, and those that just
pretend. And I didn’t realize that a handful of the people I associated with in
high school would still be here for me now.
I’m a lot stronger than I ever knew I was growing up. Some
of that strange I had to build myself, but most of that strength has been
inside me all along. Because my physical and mental struggles are not a
reflection of my spiritual and eternal character. I am not the depression,
anxiety, fears, doubts, or voice inside my head. And I can choose to keep
living, learning, and overcoming, and creating my own story.
