What You can Learn from Me

If you've ever struggled with anxiety or depression, you've probably heard the term "wellness" an innumerable amount of times. As for myself, who has struggled with anxiety and depression, I've heard the term but never really knew what it meant. Wellness as in caring for myself? I had always been so caught up in my own mind that the idea confused me. For example, how could something as simple as me taking a shower somehow positively affect my mental health?

The real kicker is that I studied psychology in college. I in fact was fully aware of the correlations between health and wellness and mental health. Yet, I never fully believed it. I could stare at the case studies and statistics all day, but it would never clear the stubborn mental block in my own head.

Then personal experiences really changed my outlook throughout 2020 and into 2021. I had always wrestled with depression, but it felt like the universe really wanted to see how much it could beat me down. Almost like a science experiment, it continually asked how much I could take.

Aside from issues to deep to discuss here that occurred to me as a child, my boyfriend at the start of 2020 had forced me to have an abortion. I was against the notion, although I knew I didn't want to be with him. This was because I was told I may never have kids due to a medical condition. He took me to the wrong clinic at first, where I was forced to listen to the heartbeat, and then told immediately after I was going to hell (the clinic was ran by Christian lobbyist in the state of Florida). He then took me across the street where I would actually have the procedure done. Clenching to my ultrasound picture, I went in alone.

I had to take two pills, one to stop the heart, and one to abort. The first pill I took in front of the doctor himself, who had a gun sticking out from the back of his scrubs. I took the second pill 24 hours later.

Scared my parents might find out, which they obviously would have, I stayed at his place. We were still together, despite the year of mental abuse and manipulation he had put me through. I was in his room with the door locked. Closer to evening I began to hear voices from out in the living room. By 9, at least twenty people were there, drinking and doing cocaine right outside the room.

On codeine and still in a tremendous amount of pain, I stayed alone. When the cramps had slightly subsided, I was finally able to doze off to sleep.

I was awoken around midnight by a sharp, stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I was, humiliatingly, wearing a diaper to stop myself from bleeding everywhere. I ripped back the covers to find my my sweatpants saturated in a dark blood, along with the sheets beneath me. Scared and with my boyfriend no where in sight, I called my nurse friend. She told me my placenta had probably not detached, a condition my mother suffered from when she gave birth to me, and was hemorrhaging. I would need to go to the hospital.

It was completely dark outside when I stumbled out. I looked like a monster with mascara running down my face and the entire lower half of my body covered in blood. I ran to our friend's house who lived just next door.

I threw myself through the front door, and heard an immense gasp. There was around forty people inside, partying and having fun. Someone I knew was there, and told me to check the bathroom, and that's where I found him, there with some girls doing lines of coke off the bathroom sink.

I wasn't sure what hit the floor first, my heart or my jaw, but I ran out as fast as I could. I ran back to his place, scared and alone, and sat on the toilet for about thirty minutes. I was attempting with little success to push my placenta out, and loosing a great deal of blood.

My boyfriend finally arrived, and I was sitting in a pool of blood on the bathroom floor. I had successfully saved myself, but my heart was hurting worse than it ever had before.

Inevitably, we broke up. Upon exchanging personal items, I didn't care about anything but the ultrasound picture of what was more than likely the only child I will ever have. I never received it.

After this truly life-changing episode, I turned to undoubtedly the worst two things possible: drugs and alcohol. My family, who had no idea what had happened until a year later, gave up on me. They thought I was throwing my life away- which I was. But they didn't understand the reasoning behind it. I needed help and a support system, but was too afraid and ashamed to say anything. Feeling even more alone and even more depressed, I took a step I never thought I would. I went to my doctor and asked for antidepressants.

As someone who understands fully the positive and negative affects of prescription drugs to treat mental disorders, I felt that there could be no harm done. It wasn't as if I was going to get addicted to them. The problem was that I didn't stop drinking. This thoroughly plunged me into more self-destructive behavior that inevitably ruined relationships, jobs, and many other aspects of my life.

Fast forward six months, and I still hadn't recovered mentally or physically. I was still profusely bleeding everyday, and was mourning the loss of my child. In addition, after that night everyone knew what had happened to me, and I was the center of gossip and ridicule. I knew I needed to move on with my life. Sick of still living in my hometown, I moved to Washington, D.C. From a career standpoint, the decision was great. But, I carried my demons right along with me. It's almost as if I packed them up in my suitcase and brought them along for the ride, thinking they might just stay in there if I left it zipped.

I was horrifically wrong. And the effects have been disastrous.

In Washington, I met this truly amazing man. He took me on dates, he held my hand, and he loved me- insecurities and demons included. And, I loved him. For the first time in my life, I felt warmth, a future, and a purpose. But I hadn't realized what was still lurking beneath my surface, which was a mix of extreme pain, self hatred, and wounds I had left to fester.

On a fateful night, I let everything culminate into an explosive and irreconcilable event. I had let all the bad win. My childhood, my ex, my trauma. All my hurt and pain had finally come to the surface, and I lost the best part of me. The pain and hate in me had become so overwhelming that my self-destructive tendencies let me ruin what was probably the best thing to have ever happened to me. Now, after days of self-reflection and introspection, I'm writing this piece now.

I always knew I was a victim in previous incidents, whether it had been a rape, mental and physical abuse, or what have you. This victim mentality mixed with what was already brewing in me is what lead me to wonder why god or the universe hated me so much. I've truly asked myself what have I done so horribly to deserve such treatment? And I think I've finally found the answer.

They always say you learn from your mistakes, but now you can learn from mine. I don't care about winning whatever challenge I've entered this piece into, but I want it to stand as a testament to others who are struggling. I want to lead by example and hopefully positively impact someones life, even just one person's.

Don't let your hurt ruin you. Don't let your past scar you. Don't let this brutal life allow you to ruin the good that you do have. Whatever you're going through or whatever you have been through, I promise I've been there. It sounds crazy but it's true. I'm an absolute disaster, but I want to make something of that.

Don't let your own pain cause others pain, because that will be the most unbearable heartbreak you can imagine. It's been mine.

My biggest mistake in my life has been letting the bad supersede the good. And I've now let it take the very most important thing from me. This new year, if you're struggling, make your mental health a priority. Take your showers, treat yourself kindly, get some sun. Allow yourself to look past the darkness and to see the light in your life, because I promise you it's there.