And here's the thing, and this will venture into triggering territory so I'll put it under a read more:
But the thing is. I still remember the first time I thought I want to be dead. I was in second grade. I still remember sitting at the desk, looking at the whiteboard, knowing I'd got a 10/10 on my spelling test, plus the bonus points for challenge words. And I knew it. Right then. It wasn't enough. I didn't want to do this. Even at that age.
So of course, if you've followed me for a while, you know that I've talked a lot about dealing with constantly feeling like I'd rather be dead. And around the time I started that job, and became an aunt that had a more parental-level of involvement. I talked a lot about feeling like I was the happiest I'd ever been. That I was somehow able to live while mostly wanting to be alive.
And I wasn't lying. I really wasn't. I just...I was so busy and so full to the brim with responsibilities that I mistook waking up in the morning and thinking about my nephew and then work and THEN whether or not I wanted to be alive for progress. I mistook the absence of time to deal with my mental health as an example of how it must, therefore, be better. And I believed it! I really did think to myself some days "Well, shit, I'm cured" and it felt like a battle, because I had spent so many years wishing I was dead, and the reprieve felt like I'd really fought my way to it.
But then...I quit my job. My 24/7 job that kept me so busy and so worried and so validated (I was good at it, because I cared SO much, because being available and working every free moment gave me purpose that I no longer needed to find elsewhere). I quit it, and I was lucky enough to take a long break. They paid me well there, I was able to pay off my student loans, I had enough in savings to keep me housed and fed. A privilege that I really do realize is more than most people are afforded. It amounted to a lot of time realizing that I just...didn't know how to be a person. I didn't know who I was when I didn't have someone telling me.
And in this time I am also really lucky that I still had my nephew. I was able to focus on things he was going through and really I don't know where I'd be without him, because if I had nothing...all at once...I don't think I'd be here.
But in the end, what I needed and what I still need as a navigate a life that didn't just happen to me, and create a life I actually want to live, was time. I needed to be able the breathe and go, "hey, this can't be the only thing I feel my entire life"
and it was FUCKING HARD. I hated it. I lost most of my friends because they were through work, and I only had work in common with them. I had to drill down on things I hadn't let myself think about in years. I had lost my health insurance so I did this without a therapist or medication and I felt like I was unraveling the okay life I built to draw back to the bare bones of a shit life on a hope and a prayer I could build a good one.
And this isn't to say I don't feel thankful for the years I spent stagnant. The alternative would probably have been me not being here. It kept me alive and I can't not be grateful for that. But I am also grateful for this period of difficulty. I'm happy I get the chance to try again. Even if other people think it's late in life. I don't care. I'm doing it, and it sucks, and I'm proud.
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