Hey, all. Just wanted to check in – another attempt to use this platform and make discussions like these regular in my life. The response that I have gotten from my previous post has been incredible, providing me with not only a network of individuals that have both gone through something similar, but also connecting me with those who understand the liberation that comes with talking about mental health. Thank you all for taking the time to read my story and to hear my truth. The ability to cope with you all has been life changing.
I have just completed my first semester of senior year at Creighton University. It is a bittersweet feeling knowing that my time in Omaha is coming to an end, but I am starting to see just how grateful I am for my education and experiences here. This semester, however, has not been full of sunshine and rainbows. It has been extremely challenging to adapt to my anxiety disorder with a busy schedule full of school and work – as well as a little bit of fun along the way. The word “balance” often feels like a mystery to me. We are told to find this “balance” in our day-to-day lives, but my journey in searching for this has been stressful. As someone who, thankfully, can function with my anxiety disorder at a high level, there were days where all of my tasks at hand just seemed too much. Taking days or time for myself and my mental health has been so vital in my journey these last few months – serving as a reminder that it’s okay to step away from everything.
My anxiety still comes in many forms, but most intensely through thoughts about my existence, humanity and the world, and death. As my sessions with my therapist continue, I’ve come to the discovery that this existential angst actually lies within myself. My faith has taught me that everything happens for a reason and that we are exactly who we are supposed to be. Yet I am juggling with the question, “Who am I?” If anything, my anxiety has been stemming from months of personal growth and self-discovery - a growth into a more independent person. It’s like I’ve unlocked this door into my being. A door that I should not have the ability to open. A feeling that is so intense at times. I question my every breath, my bodily movements, my thoughts and my desires. It’s the overwhelming feeling and recognition of being alive. It feels as if I had been blindly wandering through our planet, and it just now hit me that I am here. It’s evident that over the summer there were many nights where I thought I would not wake up the next morning. My brain seemingly tricked me into having “near-death experiences,” which still terrify me to this day. Not only does it seem like these thoughts of death and my being persist through every moment of my life, but that I feel as if I shouldn’t be having these thoughts at all. That these thoughts make me inherently different from all of you. I'm too young to be thinking about my death. My gratefulness and appreciation for the life I live has caused me to feel anxious. I love life so much, in fact, that my brain wants to know more about why I'm here, what my purpose is, and what my existence truly means; all questions that have no answer - something my disorder cannot settle with.
However, I survived the semester. I passed all my classes with soaring colors, didn’t skip a beat while working with Creighton Men’s Basketball, and managed to be present and engaged in all of my interactions with classmates and friends. But I’ve had bad days repeatedly. It seems as if it’s impossible for me to string together a week’s worth of great days. But it’s a part of my journey and my struggle. Joe Johnson, long-time NBA great, recently got the phrase “Trust your Struggle” inked on his upper-left pec and shoulder. I couldn’t have said it better myself. I’ve yet to fully trust my struggle. I’m still so frustrated that this disorder has happened to me. I’m so confused that I can’t fully explain to anyone why I’m so anxious without sounding like a lunatic – the aspect of anxiety that tries to convince your mind that you are actually going crazy. But I've used the resources around me.
That being said, the people in my life have again and again provided a shoulder to lean on even if they recognized it or not. Whether it is me and my friends shooting the shit in the living room of my college house or being distracted by a friend in the library, these alone take me outside of my mind, a place that can often be uncomfortable and stressful to sit in. A simple check-in from a family member or high school friend may seem so unimportant, but the idea that I have people in my life that care about me goes much further than I actually comprehended before I struggled with my disorder.
And as this check-in concludes, I thought I would share a little bit about the most difficult aspect of dealing with my disorder, and possibly a common theme for other individuals in your life struggling with mental health. Each and every day, it is a struggle to love myself - or accept this condition for what it is. I am so focused on getting myself better right now that I spend a large portion of the day thinking about my disorder – something that our society has taught us is “bad” or “needs to be fixed.” Yes, it is nice to hear others say how much I mean to them and how much they love me, but does it matter if I’m not even comfortable with who I am? This battle has only gotten easier from where I was a few short months ago. I’ve recently been reading Lincoln’s Melancholy, a book about how President Abraham Lincoln’s depression challenged him and fueled his success and leadership – an attempt to view my anxiety disorder as a positive in my life. I’ve found inspiration in music, specifically through songs about an artist’s struggles and strife and how they coped, reminding me that although I am the only one experiencing my struggle, many others in our world are going through something similar. I've also reexamined what I love most about myself and what I love to do - something we don't do for ourselves enough. All of these have helped me re-learn how to love myself.
As I was shopping with my family over Christmas break recently, I wasn’t talking a ton. My Mom asked me how I was feeling, making it seem as if she was concerned because I wasn’t engaged with my surroundings. However, I was having a great day – a day so great that I could sit with my thoughts, something I hadn’t been able to do for some time. I explained to her that on my worst days, sometimes being engaged is my only way out of my mind. And on my best days, sometimes sitting with myself and my mind is all I want. As my mother stared at me with a complexed look on her face, this is when I truly understood the mystery that is “mental health." It has so many different faces and symptoms. With many of you home for the holidays, I encourage everyone that reads this to check in on their loved ones. Be honest with yourself and your family if you aren’t doing well. Use the support and love that surrounds you every day. And even if you feel as if you’re denied from every Inn as Mary and Joseph were, there is a manger right around the corner. Thank you, all, for being my manger.
Merry Christmas,
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