I’m going to be honest with you guys. This wasn’t the post I had intended on posting. It’s 2/4/18 1:04 AM and I’m up eating eggs. I don’t know why I’m up eating eggs, but this has been my routine for the past week. I’m sick with a pesky cold and that I can’t seem to get rid of. However, you guys didn’t come here to read about my sickness but if you know any natural remedies for getting rid of phlegm and mucus comment below. I’ve tried some of everything.
Usually, when I get like this, it’s an indicator that my anxiety and depression are kicking into high gear and pretty soon I’ll be laid on some floor in my apartment wondering where life went wrong for me, or how I miss the one person I cannot have. I’ll be spiraling into a full-blown anxiety attack and there won’t be a soul (or at least that’s how I feel) that can do anything to help me or save me from myself.
There are all kinds of things that I think about, but some people don’t understand the magnitude of the everyday problems for a person with anxiety and depression. I believe in good mental health, and I try to remember my meds every day, but some days get so busy and then I forget about it. Is there an app that reminds you to take your medication every day like my period tracker app reminds me that I’ll be miserable soon? I’m sure there are but I’ll forget to download it and then I’ll find myself asleep on the floor between the wall and my bed because that feels so secure to me.
Today, the thing that has me up at 1am eating eggs is my life. When I graduated high school, I had a plan. I had a goal to accomplish so many things by 25 and although I’ve stopped aging at 26. I’m nowhere near the things I set out to accomplish as a naive young woman. I had dreams of being an author, a publisher, a world traveler, a wife and a mother all before the age of 30. I’ve always had the gift to tell a story and draw people in. Writing comes naturally to me. Writing is my first love. I’ve always been able to develop stories just from street signs and good times. These goals were not unattainable, and they still aren’t unattainable. These goals were loaded. I put so much pressure on myself to be better than the next person, but I was just like the people I criticized and judged so heavily. When I started college, I was on the cusp of anxiety and depression and the staggering 1.5 GPA helped tip me into full-blown psychosis. I’m not diagnosed with psychosis but the disconnect from reality was real. I didn’t think I could fail at anything in life because I was so successful at everything I did. I didn’t think failure would hurt so bad but it sure did especially when all I knew was success.
I didn’t think I had a problem. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me until the first time I tried to overdose on Tylenol. I hid the first suicide attempt and tried to cover it up with laughter and tell people the reason I couldn’t make it into work, leave the house, or answer my phone was because I was sleeping. My family thinks all I do is sleep because of the lies I told back then. (I do get a full eight hours of sleep every day but it’s only because without it I’m EVIL.) It’s hard having mental issues and people laugh in your face because they only think you’re joking and ‘you’re so vibrant and happy all the time.’ Faking being happy is the hardest job I’ve ever had. It’s so tiring and exhausting being someone you aren’t.
As I was standing at the stove whipping up these eggs, I thought to myself. You’re (insert real age here). You’re supposed to be married with children right now. That’s the phrase that inspired this post about my life. I’ve dealt with so many things in my life and I try to take everything with a grain of salt. I am the lighthearted woman in the room, with the infectious laugh and the radiant smile, but honey it took years for me to be that woman. It took years of practice. It took years of internal turmoil, lies, false sleep, and so much rejection that I don’t even want to think about it. I attempted suicide after every miscarriage I had, 4 in total. Every time I’ve dealt with the pain on my own. This is why I encourage women to have a stable tribe of women around them that will be there for them through their hardest times. It’s necessary to have someone who just lets you lay on their couch and cry.
My life definitely isn’t what I had planned it to be because if it were, I’d be on book number two with a handsome husband and a kid in tow. However, if I didn’t live the life I have lived so far. I probably wouldn’t have made the friends I’ve made so far. I probably wouldn’t have impacted the few, yet important lives I have to date. I’m not done living life and maybe a husband is someone where in my future or a lifelong partner who understands my fear of finality. These years have given me a purpose that I thought I didn’t have. I’m not a self-help guru. I definitely don’t sit up and write these posts to be on the cover of TIME magazine as the most influential person of (insert year here). I do this because I believe we all go through things we aren’t proud of and do things that would shame our parents but it’s not the end of the world. I’m doing this for me. I’m helping me help others and as long as my posts bring a smile to someone’s face or it makes them feel better or it gives them a sense of unity then my job here is done. I want to use my life to help out as many people as I possibly can. My life has a purpose because you don’t fail 4 times without there being a purpose at the end, right?
Tonight, or this morning, I asked reminded myself of a failure. I reminded myself of something that I said I would have by now, but I don’t. Does a husband equate success? NO! Does marriage equate success? NO! But the failure is in not achieving my own personal goals. I guess it’s a good thing I’m two days behind on meds because then I wouldn’t be here giving you all this realness. My mom is probably reading this right now and she’s clutching her pearls, but this was on my heart tonight. Hi, My name is Larreca and I’m a failure at life but I’m slightly okay with that.