Reflecting on my Mental Health Diagnosis as a College Dropout

Recently, I discovered that I have ADHD and PTSD. Now that comes with a sense of relief because I've been struggling with my mental health for years, not knowing what was going on exactly. However, I would be lying to you if I said I didn’t feel upset. Mainly, I find myself wishing that I had known sooner. I think I developed unnecessary feelings of self-hatred thinking that I was somehow defective and that I was just never good enough really.

It didn’t help that I was also an Honors and AP student. While that might seem like a blessing, I think that there was this unfortunate standard that was pushed upon us, one that I would struggle to meet since 7th grade up until I graduated high school. One that teachers would consistently remind me of when I failed to do certain things or struggled to get things done. I don’t hold that against them, they knew as much as I knew really, which wasn’t much.

However, looking overall at my K-12 schooling experience, I don't think the right questions were asked. I think many of my mentors and teachers simply assumed that I was lazy and that I didn't care. That could not be farther from the truth. I had the assignments to prove it. When motivated and engaged I could come up with an A+ assignment. No problem.

The unfortunate part is that I can't control the way my mind processes or rather when it will decide to stop focusing. It actually becomes quite tiring to try to get my mind and my body aligned to work together. Soon, I was plagued with depression and anxiety from the constant struggle to understand. There were times I would read the same sentence over and over, yet no understand what I was reading. I would struggle to focus on what my teachers were trying to tell me, and by the time I finally came back to all my senses, I was already a lesson behind. Symptoms like these would only get worse as time went on.

I admit that at some point, I gave up on myself and got used to hearing the disappointment that came with that. Teachers would say things like "You are so smart, but I can't help you if you're not going to help yourself." That's not to tap myself on the back, if anything it only filled me with dread and hopelessness.

I never knew how to help myself, and if I did, I needed the adults in my family to be there too, which wasn't possible. My mom was (and still is) a single mother, and at the time that I started to struggle the most, I was taking care of my younger siblings. The moment I would get home, all I saw was my mom leaving to work. Then it was off to cook for my siblings, and I wouldn't see her until midnight.

With these circumstances, there wasn't much I could do to help myself. There were too many people depending on me everywhere I turned.

It wasn't surprising that I would continue to struggle up until now.

Recently, I failed my first semester of college. I experienced panic, despair, and frustration in ways you can't imagine. My first writing assignment, I remember staring at my computer screen, trying to remember what I was trying to write about in the first place. After 10 minutes of doing that, I tried to start typing, but ended up having a panic attack. In a instant, I was pulling my hair, sobbing, hating myself for being so stupid. Hating myself for believing that I could ever be a successful student.

It was something I felt I should've expected; always having the potential, but never being strong or focused enough to make something of it.

I withdrew from school, not wanting to experience that disappointment ever again.

Now, a couple months later after looking for help, I realize how much it would’ve helped me to know about my mental health from the beginning. To let people know that I was honestly doing the best I could considering the mental illnesses I was struggling with.

The one thing I am thankful for through all of this, is that I’ve been pushed to be gentle with myself. I need to understand that I’m a victim of suffering and that already puts me at a disadvantage that I didn’t ask for. Therefore, I need to stop blaming myself for those things that happened to me that I couldn’t control.

If anyone is struggling to cope with anything, whether it’s loneliness, stress, pain, etc. Please be gentle. Trust me, the world’s going to convince you that when you’re not doing something productive, you’re wasting time. I think we should look at it more as an investment in yourself, one that will help you move forward with less possibility of breaking down.

If you break down though, there’s nothing wrong with that, it doesn’t make you any less worthy of happiness, love, or care. Take it as a sign to pause, breathe, and figure out what you need.