Monday / September 28, 2020.
I’ve been writing a journal since I was 16. At the age of 19, almost four years ago, I created this blog that I also call journal. I was a miserable journalism student, feeling stuck, feeling lost, battling depression and anxiety while studying something I thought I liked but actually wasn’t for me at all. It’s been a wild ride. I haven’t stopped writing on here ever since. This journal has been with me through it all; the awful days, the empty days and the better days. I’ve written in so many of stories, how I wish I had something nice to say, how I wish I didn’t have so many sad things to write about, how I wish I didn’t have to write about my fears all the time. I don’t regret any of those stories, however, I’m so glad this day to write about something beautiful has finally come. Dear journal, today’s story is probably the best story I’ve ever written; here we go. So, as I said, I’ve written about my depression, anxiety, fears, and family dramas so much. After living in constant fear of family devastation, fear of failure, fear of incapability due to mental illness, I’m happy to say that I’ve made a huge step towards making peace with my fears. I dared to confront my dad and ask him about something I had known for almost seven years which had been one of the key factors of my depression ever since I’ve found out about it. I was so afraid of talking about it, asking questions about it, thinking it would only cause even more damage. But about a week ago, without even planning it, I did it. I openly talked about it. I asked questions, I asked what I wanted to know. And I survived. Nothing bad happened. What my dad told me was quite expected, I’m not surprised, but things are more clear to me now anyway, even though I didn’t really get the answers I needed. My mom didn’t know about any of this, I never told her because I didn’t want her to be upset, but I had that talk with her too. Keeping it a secret from her had been haunting me for years, and even though I was forced to tell her otherwise someone else was about to do it, I’m actually glad it happened. I’m still traumatised by that day and how I had to tell her but I’m here, I’m alive, my mom is alive, and I don’t have to be afraid of her finding out about it from someone else and being even more hurt. Things have been hard, but now that I’ve confronted two huge things that were causing me pain, I feel like I can finally start to breathe freely again. I feel like I finally, after all these years, don’t have to think about all of those things every single day. I can finally discover how nice can one simple day be. What a luxury. On to another huge thing; I passed my exams! I left my first university due to depression back in 2017. My mental illness was very severe and I was not able to study. That was three years ago, I’m not in that place in life anymore but the fear of being incapable still remains. To this day, I’m still terrified of being in such a bad mental state, being depressed to the point where my brain is completely blank, having awful memory. To this day, the thought of not being able to study, learn and process new information which I need in order to graduate and pursue my dream of becoming a social worker still terrifies me and it’s something that’s devastating for me. But I passed!! It was hard as hell but oh my god, I passed! My fears are the product of my past experiences, my traumas. But after those hard conversations and confrontations, after passing my exams, I think I can finally start to believe in myself a little more again. I think I’m finally able to see that I’m really not in that dark place in my life anymore. I’ve gotten better. I really have. I can’t believe it, but actions speak for themselves. I wasn’t brave enought to do any of these things a year ago; my anxiety creating terrifying scenarios in my head would always take over me and stop me from doing what I needed to do so badly. But I feel that I’m healthier now. I’m not in 2017, studying something I dislike anymore. I was terrified when I started school again this time last year. But I made it, year one of school of social work is done. Year two starts in a couple hours. I can’t believe it. I’m worried about a ton of things, but my soul feels less heavy. I still need to process everything. All of this is just too good to be true; that’s how it seems. It took me two years of therapy to learn to accept things, to stop trying to control every little thing about my life, to try again, to challenge myself to get out of my comfort zone, explore my options, have hard conversations, set boundaries and much more. Two years of intense inner work. And it’s all paying off. It truly does get better. Here’s to having hard conversations that we’ve avoided for the longest time, here’s to confronting friends, family members and everyone who hasn’t treated you nicely, here’s to trying again in school, at work, hobby or whatever you’ve been afraid of. Here’s to becoming healthier versions of ourselves.
Thank you to my grandma for being my source of strength through whatever life puts me through.
Thank you to my best friends who have gone through it all with me even though they had their own struggles.
Thank you to my sisters who make living at home easier and always have my back.
And last but not least, thank you to my amazing therapist who has done an amazing job helping me see beyond my fears, traumas, and limitations I created in my head. We make an awesome team.
Til next time,