LOST

I had always considered myself a rational and level-headed person, but that all changed one fateful summer. It began innocently enough with a series of stressors that piled up like bricks on my sanity.

The first brick was my demanding job. I was a software developer working for a tech startup, and the pressure to meet deadlines and constantly innovate was relentless. I found myself working late into the night, unable to switch off my racing thoughts about code and bugs.

The second brick was my deteriorating relationship. My partner and I had been drifting apart for months, and the constant arguing and emotional distance left me feeling isolated and unmoored. We eventually decided to go our separate ways, but the pain of the breakup lingered like a shadow.

The third brick was my health. I had always prided myself on my physical fitness, but I neglected self-care in the pursuit of my career. I stopped exercising, ate poorly, and rarely slept more than a few hours a night. My body began to rebel, and I developed chronic headaches and stomach issues that no doctor could diagnose.

As the bricks piled higher, I started to lose my grip on reality. I would sit at my desk, staring at lines of code that seemed to swim and dance before my eyes. Thoughts raced through my mind at a dizzying pace, like a carousel spinning out of control. I couldn't concentrate on anything, and even simple tasks became insurmountable challenges.

I began to withdraw from friends and family, unable to explain the chaos inside my head. I stopped answering calls and texts, preferring the solace of my dimly lit apartment. The walls closed in on me, and I could hear the whispers of my own mind, taunting me with doubts and insecurities.

One night, I had a breakdown. I sat on my bedroom floor, tears streaming down my face, and I felt like I was unraveling. It was as if my mind had turned against me, a treacherous landscape of swirling thoughts and emotions. I couldn't escape the feeling that I was losing myself, that I was slipping into madness.

I knew I needed help, so I reached out to a therapist. Opening up about my struggles was like peeling away layers of armor I had built over the years. My therapist helped me confront the source of my anxiety and provided tools to manage it. I started to regain some semblance of control over my life.

Rebuilding my mental health was a slow and arduous process. I learned to prioritize self-care, incorporating exercise and healthy eating into my daily routine. I reconnected with friends and family, who provided much-needed support and understanding.

As the months passed, the bricks that had weighed down my sanity began to crumble. My work-life balance improved, and I found a new job that allowed me to pursue my passion for coding without sacrificing my well-being. I even started dating again, cautiously opening my heart to the possibility of love.

Looking back, I can see that I didn't truly lose my mind; I lost my way. I allowed the pressures of life to overwhelm me, and I neglected the most important thing: my mental health. But in the process of rebuilding, I discovered resilience I never knew I had. I learned that it's okay to ask for help, that vulnerability is a strength, and that the mind, no matter how lost, can find its way back to sanity with the right support and self-care