Not long ago, this day didn't exist.
I teach 5th grade. To be completely honest with you, it's HARD. These kids are 10 and 11. Their bodies are changing and their minds are changing. They aren't little kids anymore, but they aren't really big kids either. They're going through a phase during which normalcy doesn't really exist. Some days, they are completely disrespectful. And I desperately want to yell at them while pulling my hair out. I breathe and I come back to myself and I remember: they're humans. They're kids. I'm not perfect, how can I expect them to be perfect? Then, I remember when I was in 5th grade.
When I was in 5th grade, my mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. I was 10 and I really didn't understand the severity of the situation, but the realization that I could lose her was somewhere in the back of my head. One day, I lost it. I don't know where it came from or how it happened, but I remember being at recess and then I remember sobbing on the floor in the hallway at the top of the staircase. I couldn't breathe. I didn't even care that my classmates could see me. Some of them probably remember that day more clearly than I do, but now, I remember it as the day I started my battle.
After that day, I began to close myself off. I didn't feel like hanging out with my friends and I didn't like school anymore. I spent a lot of time on the internet. Soon, it was summer and I started to sleep all the time. I stayed up really late and slept until the afternoon. I would wake up and have panic attacks. I would call my mom and tell her I didn't know what to do; that I felt helpless. Here's the really terrible thing that I still don't understand: I started to imagine what it would be like to die. How could an 11 year old feel these things? How could a kid feel so desperate when nothing really happened? My mom continued to get better and I continued to get worse. I started going to therapy and I started taking medication, but I was miserable. I started 6th grade and I hated every second of it. I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression. Eventually, my parents decided to admit me to a mental health center inside of a hospital because they were terrified of what might happen. I was too. Truthfully, I don't remember much about my experience there. I don't remember any of the people or any of my treatment. Vividly, I remember what my room looked like. It was completely white; nothing on the walls except white. After some time passed, I went home before returning to the same place for the same reason. I was so miserably depressed and scared of myself that I wanted to go back to the white room instead of staying in the place I called home. I felt guilty. I felt wrong. My heart felt heavy. I didn't like who I was or what I was doing to my family. I didn't see any of the light around me... only darkness.
"Forget yesterday, live for today, and hope for tomorrow."
A nurse, the only person I remember from the hospital, repeated these words to me. When I returned home from my final inpatient treatment, I posted them on the wall above the window in my bedroom. Every morning when I woke up, I read these words to myself. I continued to go to therapy, I continued taking medication, and I started spending time with my friends again. One day, I stopped going to therapy. Soon after, I decided to try a day without my medication.
Ten years have passed since I began my recovery.
On the most hopeless days, I never could have imagined that I would be here. I realize now that big changes were happening in my life and in the process of finding myself, I lost myself completely. I hope and pray that I never have to go through it again, but I know it's possible. There were times when I was afraid I would fall again. When my mom died, I was terrified. My freshman year of college, I was terrified. It took me a long time to learn that bad days, bad weeks, and even bad years don't have to pull me back to that place. I still struggle with anxiety, but I reach out to the people who love and support me and I push through. I know now that I have the tools to survive. I always keep in mind that I'm never alone... even when I'm by myself. It's taken me a long time to write about my experience because I was afraid of what people would think or assume about me, but I've realized none of that really matters.
If you are struggling, remember that you're never alone. Remember that tomorrow will come and the future is brighter. If you're scared, think about the days on the other side of the pain. Even if it seems unrealistic, you will wake up 10 years from now and these days will be only distant memory. If you are feeling hopeless, worthless, guilty, scared... reach out. Grab a hand. Grab MY hand! I will help you and I will listen. You're NEVER, ever, EVER alone. You're loved and your future is so bright. Bright beyond your wildest dreams.
"Forget yesterday, live for today, and hope for tomorrow."
