where do i start?? it’s been so long since i’ve posted… and while i’m at it— happy first post of 2023!!
not that i owe anyone an explanation, but my lack of writing was intentional. last semester’s finals crept up on me. and then i went home. and holidays… and then quick trips to visit people and places…. and then a winter seminar course that quite literally drained me of any of my lingering academic abilities.
despite not writing for a while, i have been regularly seeing my therapist and ensuring i’m stable on my medications… which is my main priority!!
with all the busyness, life is on pause for today (i officially finished my winter course yesterday, and spring classes start tomorrow)… i thought it would be a good time to sit down and get my thoughts out.
though i have made so much progress along my mental health journey, i think it’s important to reflect on what it has taken to get me here. so that’s what i’m going to do. my post is heavy, as a forewarning, but ultimately it is a message of hope (at one point, something i didn’t have).
okay, time to take the plunge. deep breath. go.
my first semester of college was a wild ride. i thought i would be efficient and front-load my major classes and as it has turned out, it’s STILL the hardest semester of classes i’ve had during my time at W&M.
at the same time of my academic downfall, i was starting to realize my struggles were a bit more complex than “a few bad days.” my struggles spilled onto everyone i encountered. it’s the most selfish i’ve ever been. i felt like i had no control over anything in my life. i called my mom and dad (daily (sometimes multiple times a day)) to sob about how much i hated school.
just like every other freshman, i was adjusting to a living in a box with a roommate. i was trying to make new friends. my family was dealing with some difficulties, and i wasn’t there to help or support them. i was also in a long-distance relationship, for the third consecutive year, and it was slipping through both of our fingers…especially mine. i started idolizing suicide. and it got worse and worse by the day.
during those moments of hardship, i questioned why i couldn’t be happy. i was a tornado destructing everything in my wake. i said things to people that haunt me at night…still. i put my friends in positions that i will forever be remorseful of. i lashed out in every day possible. i was angry at the world. but, in reality, i was capital “C” Crazy (wow, that’s a lot harder to say than i thought).
despite visiting campus doctors to get prescriptions and on-campus therapy, those weren’t cutting it for me. but eventually, the semester came to a close, and i went home.
my time over winter break was hectic, but i did some work on myself. that work was nowhere near the work that needed to be done, though.
despite not being able to fix myself completely, i finally got myself in a better place…better enough to go back to school for the spring.
my spring semester started off good. i was refreshed and ready to go. my classes were a lot easier to manage than my fall semester. i was freshly single. i was closer to my friends than ever before. things were looking up for me. i had hope. and excitement.
quickly, that hope was crushed. my anxiety and depression started spiraling out of control. i was destructive, not only for myself, but others felt my destruction, too. i was trying to mask my emotions, but nothing was working. and then my world really stopped.
a quick interaction in the middle of a thursday afternoon, on the way to the gym, left me altered in ways i can’t even begin to describe. sexual assault.
it’s taken me a while to confront the realities of what i went through, but i’m finally at a place where i can say that i’m healed enough to be writing about it. most of all, it’s an important part of my story.
my incident altered me in so many ways. i lost control of myself. i lost any and all abilities to cope. i lost trust in so many people. i felt scared. i felt alone. at the time, i felt like i might of deserved what happened to me.
my mind continued spiraling down. and then, a night out turned into a confrontation, turned to a walk back alone to my dorm, where i would face myself in the mirror as i downed close to 70 pills. the same medication prescribed to help me would end me. i wrote “i love you” in green highlighter on a certificate i was awarded and asked God to take me. accept me. no more pain. no more struggles. my mind would finally be free.
i successfully failed at that plan.
when i entered the hospital, the doctors were concerned about my heart. i remember the doctor saying to me while i was phasing in and out, “elizabeth, you had me worried about your heart for awhile.”
but, as we have it now, i ended up making a full recovery. the nurses in the hospital sometimes visit me in dreams. they truly spoke life and love and hope into me. that’s not say going forward was easy. i remember my parents saying the sunrise and sunsets were so beautiful and telling me about hope. i couldn’t grasp “hope” though. my world was so warped that the sunset looked gray and black to me. i was in such a deep state of depression, i cry now when i think about where i was. i’m crying as i write this. i simply didn’t have the help i needed to get better. “pushing through” wasn’t helping anymore.
after my stay in the hospital, i was encouraged by a multitude of doctors to finish up my semester from home. though i was resentful to finishing up (considering i had 3 weeks left and two of those were finals) i finished from home. and i finished on Dean’s list.
those weeks were difficult. every morning my mom would wake me up with a cup of water and my medicine. some days i simply refused to get out of bed. my dad ended up coming home to help my mom with me, because i was unresponsive to the help. my best friend visited me at one point, and i wouldn’t even turn to look at her from my bedroom. there were days when i would scream and fight against my parents and convey to them that i was so angry my suicide attempt was a failure. several times i was close to going to inpatient services. i was in and out of the hospital due to concerns about my health from lab work.
i was a living hell for my parents. most of the time now, i felt like i was possessed by something other than me.
once i stopped fighting against everyone and accepted the help from others, i went all in.
i’ve had the same therapist since April of last year. i have regular visits with a psychiatrist. though my life isn’t perfect, it’s a million times better than it was.
over the summer, i moved to Kansas for an internship. while in Kansas, i fell in love with life again. i saw hope in a different light. i had a couple of times where i fell, but ultimately forced myself to get back up again. i said “i’m sorry” and actually meant it. i faced myself in the mirror, and told myself i would get better. Kansas became my holy place. i found purpose in the work i did during the day. i made friends i still talk with regularly. i stayed with the most amazing family who helped support me in my rehabilitation journey. as the summer came to a close, i had a tough time leaving the place where i found myself. but, i knew it was time to get back to my home and i chose to go back to W&M.
i had every option to take time off from school, transfer schools, drop out of school, go back to school, but ultimately, i felt like i was ready to go back.
my fall semester started off tough. i definitely felt myself slipping into old patterns at times. but, i was determined to push through. it was nowhere near perfect. i left for several weekends to escape and focus on myself. there was a period when i felt like death was at my doorstep— the loss of an influential part of my childhood, a death on campus in a dormitory, the shootings at UVA, and then the suicide of tWitch a few weeks later. my mom ended up coming down to take me to a hotel for a week, so i could still do school, but not on campus.
but, through it all, i was getting better. my grades were steady. my habits were overall healthy. my friendships were stronger than ever. i gained control of myself again. i learned to let go and pivot when disappointment hit me in the face. i felt nothing but love and support from those around me. for the first time in a long time, i was consistently happy with myself. for the first time i echoed that i was proud of myself— and i wholeheartedly believed it (i still do). i strove to get better and, once again, continued to ask for help where it was most effective.
when i was feeling steady and confident in myself, i met the most amazing human being. i was nowhere near looking for a relationship, but somehow got swept off my feet by a kind, generous, and selfless guy. i finally loved myself enough, to accept i was in the place to love someone else, too. the first night we met we ended up on a porch swing talking until three in the morning. from then on, we have been inseparable. on my bad days he picks me up, and on his bad days, i get to pick him up. he prays over me and loves me in a way that i didn’t even know could exist.
everyday i wake up with a newfound appreciation for life.
classes start tomorrow at W&M and though i’m nervous, i am ready. i am ready to make this semester the best one, yet. it will be hard, while emotional reminders of the past year, but i’m no longer afraid of those times. i’m anxiously awaiting to celebrate all that i have overcome with the love and support of my family, friends, and most importantly…God.
i guess it has been a while since i’ve sat down to write. but i hope that if you’re in the place where you see your world collapsing, and nowhere near finding hope, know that i did. and i would have never gotten to experience what life is supposed to look like if my decisions went as planned. sometimes the detours are the best ways to find your destination.
thanks for reading, if you made it this far.
xoxo, eb
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