by Jordan Hunter about a year ago in anxiety



Our mind is a confusing place. A place where so many crazy things happen that we get overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with stress. Overwhelmed with anxiety. Overwhelmed with extracurriculars. Overwhelmed with school. Overwhelmed with work. Overwhelmed with so many things we can keep naming and naming so many things it’d go on forever. I’m here to tell you what I’m feeling and what I’m overwhelmed with.

Last year was so confusing for me. I was depressed and suicidal and self-harming and I was barely hanging on. And I mean barely. There was one person I loved so damn much that it was torture. We are going to call her Hadley. Now I’m a girl and she was one of my best friends so I wasn’t attracted to her. But I felt almost...in love with her. I was so attached to her that I could not see her for a day and I could burst into tears. She was my one string that kept me on. Barely. No one understands the way I felt about her. Not even her. As of today I still only know of one person who has felt this before and who understands it. And that just makes me feel so different. Loving Hadley almost made everything worse. She knew everything and I always went to her and didn’t want to tell anyone else. She helped me out of suicidal attempts a countless number of times but I understand now how much she hated it. How much she wanted it to stop and didn’t want to have to be the one to deal with it anymore. To deal with me anymore. Her responses got less patient and more, “Let’s say the thing that would for sure get her to stop even if it hurts her.” I remember her calling me a coward. It was awful. I realize now she never quite helped me that much but I loved her too much to see it. I still believe that I wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for her.

So fast forward to this year. Now I’m out of my depression, I’m not suicidal, not self-harming, and I’m good! I was happier and better and all of that. Except that I wasn’t. In some ways, I was worse. I felt so many times almost separated from the world. Just watching it all speed past me as I just sat and looked. It didn’t scare me but I almost didn’t want to do anything. It’s not like I was trying to help or get out of that separation. I just sat. And you wouldn’t know what to call that. Am I depressed? I don’t know. Am I just weird? I don’t know. Am I over exaggerating? No idea. All that I knew is that it wasn’t normal. But I brushed it aside because it was fine. Isn’t that what we all say. It’s fine.

It’s funny. There are so many people that exasperate how we need to think of our mental health and if we need to take a break then to take one! We see that so much yet when someone does need a break so desperately? No one acts on it around you. No one actually thinks you need it. Everyone thinks you're fine. That was me. I had school and I was struggling because there were so many days where I was there but...just not. My mind was somewhere else. It was still separated. I needed that break but I didn’t know how to get it and I couldn’t keep going. So I took matters into my own hands. I couldn’t explain it to my mom because she wouldn’t understand and I’d go back to school and continue this cycle. I would fake being sick (physically I mean) to be able to stay home a day and take that much-needed break. I ended up starting to need that so much that it turned into once a week where I was “sick”. Yet when I took my breaks I would come back to school and some of these teachers would get mad that I missed so much. I wouldn’t understand what they learned when I was gone but they wouldn’t help me understand. I couldn’t just tell them why I was missing school and I didn’t know what to do.

Then the anxiety kicked in. I started getting so anxious about it all. Not understanding school work and trying to be there more but needing those breaks. I was still getting my separated days and they became longer. I’ve had so many anxiety attacks I lost count. And because of those anxiety attacks caused by school I would need those breaks even more. It was this endless cycle of misery.

I wish I had an ending to this true story. Even if it wasn’t happy. But I’m still living this and that’s where it ends as of now. I don’t know what I’m feeling or what to call it. I’m lost in confusion.

Read next: Never In the Cover of Night
Jordan Hunter

A girl with a lil extra personality and a love to write :)

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