I can’t wait to have a little girl. I can’t wait to braid her hair, to dress her up, to play dress up with her, to go dancing and sing in the car together. I can’t wait to put her in dance and be the proud mommy of a little ballerina. I am excited for the days where she’ll want to play with makeup or put on my high heels or want to go out all dressed up. For the days where we’ll talk about boys and how they should treat girls. To the days where we’ll wear our pjs and snuggle under blankets drinking hot chocolate and watching sappy movies that make us cry. Can’t wait to sing along to Disney movies. And if this little girl tell me she wants to be a boy- I will refer to him as a him. And cheer him on a the games, or the shows or whatever activity he decides to do (because yes, you will be involved in school-that is one thing I will make you do). I will help him pick out clothes that don’t make him look like a bum and help him look nice because yes, we can still play dress up. I’ll let him cut his hair short, or keep it long or do whatever he wants with his hair. I will talk to him about the cute girls at school and to remember what I said about how to treat girls. I’ll help him pick out his tuxedo for prom, I will help him with the prom-posals, hope he makes Prom King (because my baby deserves the world) and support him every step of the way. Because that’s my baby. I might’ve had a girl, but she wanted to be a boy. That is not my decision to make, but that will always be my baby.
Now, I am not saying a break is necessarily for everyone. Some people continue on through it and do just well in the world. I, however, wasn’t. I didn’t know what to do, and I was forced into my college, my major, my life. I was absolutely miserable. I couldn’t get myself to leave my bed, I couldn’t get myself to not think of how desperately I needed to get motivation. I was stuck. So after I finished the semester, I decided to take a year off. Now, having a mother who pushed me to do my best in school, it was a little difficult for me to tell her. Most of my friends were very accepting or understood that it was what I needed. Some of them didn’t understand (most were told it wasn’t an option, so I can see why they wouldn’t). Let me tell you, my mother didn’t talk to me for few days when I told her. My mother, who would text me EVERY SINGLE DAY to ask me how I was, was not texting me. She finally accepted that it was what I needed to do, and let me take my break (mostly because I put a lot of emphasis on going back).
I wish I could say that during this time I traveled, I read all the books to read, I saw all the sights to see, I went to all the shows and events in my city. I wish I could say that. But I didn’t. I am glad I didn’t. I mean, who would want to go back to school after a year of that?
For a year, I was a waitress. Now, don’t get me wrong. I made fairly decent money doing this, and some people would rather serve than go for the career they studied for because they make more money that way. I am not putting down serving in any way. However, this is definitely not where I want to see myself in the next 10 years. Serving really opened my eyes, though. I could really see that I wanted to work with people. However, not in the food industry.
For a year I have been yelled at, snipped at, walked out on, talked about behind my back, harassed, treated like nothing, looked down on; not just by guests. My work has put me through a lot. But overall, my job has made me feel that I have no self-worth when I am there; that I am a pointless person (please don’t be offended if you are in the service industry, this is my personal feeling/path). That’s when I realized I wanted my place of work to actually mean something to me. For my work to actually make me feel like I am doing good in the world. To feel like I did something for someone.
Now, I am still debating on what exactly I want to do, but I have it down to two choice for me: medical interpretation, or nursing. I do know I need to go back to school is for sure. I need to go back to where I have a goal, and my goal is going to make me feel I have my life worth it. That way I have my self-worth back.
Taking a year off has given me so much motivation, I feel I could finish school with flying colors (course, I know that’s not the most realistic knowing I am not the best at everything). I can’t wait to working at my goal, meeting people with the same motivation, and finding a way to go for my dreams.
I started to notice more and more over time I was withdrawn, not wanting to do anything, and not wanting to do anything; I didn’t feel anything (happieness, joy, laughter). Those things that used to make me smile, those things that used to make time fun; those were not helping anymore. I took a mental health test and turns out I was right. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety. The anxiety was quite a shock but then I started to notice how the littlest things could make me panic and freak out.
My friends had no idea I was goign to take this test. I wouldn’t even tell them I was doing anything. I just took off while they were in class. On my way back, I prepared myself for one of my friends to be in my room, waiting for me to get back (I always kept my door unlocked because I trusted my friends) and to hang out. I kept trying to think of what I would say, what I would tell her, what I would have to explain. Each one of my friends I was afraid to talk to because each had a different problem with this situation. My friend in my room had lost a relative of theirs, a very close one, and they were dealing with their own pain. It would be hard to tell her my pain when I knew she was dealing with her own. I knew, however, that she would understand and be supportive and help me tell my mom.
“So I have to go pick up a perscription and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me?” I started to conversation.
“They finally put you on some pills, huh? What for?” she said jokingly. I knew she was just teasing me and I am sure she felt bad for joking about it afterwards.
“They are for depression. They also help with anxiety. I got prescirbed them today.” I told her. Silence filled the room. I could tell she was thinking of what to say.
“Are you okay?” she asked me. I could tell she meant it by the tone in her voice.
“I am always going to be okay. I just need some help.”
“Well let’s go get you on those pills!” she said with a laugh. I giggled a little bit at her. It made me feel good to know she was going to treat me just the same.
On the way there we listen to music. I would try to get myself to sing along, but I would catch myself being completely silent. This was affecting everything I did, and I didn’t really notice untitl then.
“So I haven’t told (friend) yet, and I haven’t told my mom either.” I told her.
“I am not sure how she will react. Perhaps she will want to make you happy.” she said with a little hope in her voice.
This friend was going to be difficult to talk to. First, she never took anything seriously. Everything was a joke or didn’t matter to her. Second, she acted like if we were ever sad or upset we had no right to be, because it was stupid or we were just being dramatic. It’s hard to talk to someone like this about it. I had no idea how to even start it.
A couple days went on before I told her. It took me a minute to finally come out and say it. I didn’t know how to come out and say it. It took an incident at the bowling alley for me to come out and say it. You see, my anxiety made me panic about things. Things like her texting a guy I have been talking to, asking him if we were fighting (I was about to tell him I didn’t think we were going to work out). When he messaged me abut I instantly started panicking. I tried to talk to her about it, but my anxiety took over and it came out as panicky yelps. My first friend came to me, put her hand on my shoulder, and told me I need to calm down. She could see it then that this was real. I was actually dealing with this and not just faking it. That’s when I knew I had to tell her.
On our way from the bowling alley, I told her there was something I’ve been needing to tell her.
“Do you remember that night my mom came up here?” I asked her.
“Yeah your white mom,” she said (it’s a joke between us).
“Haha right. Well, that was a night after I went to the wellness center and they told me I had severe depression and anxiety.” I decided to include the severe part because I needed her to realize it was serious.
“Well, I am sorry if I upset you, or did something to hurt you. You know I care about you a lot.” I could see she was serious, mostly because these aren’t words she uses. I could also tell she was worried about the bowling incident. I don’t care about it now but I did then, and I worried about it the next few days.
It was really hard for me to come out and say that this is what I was dealing with. Mostly because I am the one who takes care of everyone else. To know that I had to be taken care of was really hard for me. I am still working on it now, and it isn’t easy but I’m getting through it.
Aunt Flow, The Red Sea, That Time of the Month. Whatever you may call it. It is a hell for me. Curled up in a ball, throwing up whatever I may have eaten last night because chances are my stomach has hurt too much to eat today. Refusing to leave the bathroom because you may need to use it simply because of the pain near your tummy. I’m clearly in a lot a pain, so of course I am not in the best mood. Anyone who knows me even the slightest would say I am one of the nicest people they know. I worry about everyone, want to make everyone happy, and want to help as much as I can. Whenever it’s my time I try not to speak to anyone in case I accidentally snap at them for no reason. My mom used to say I let my built-in rage out when it’s my time so that way it’s easy for me to be nice. I say I let my rage out when I am driving to/from work and the stupid cars get in the way or do stupid things (no I am not the crazy honking lady or the one to literally follow someone; I just like to go fast, but in a safe manner). This is my first time trying out the lemon juice trick. It supposed to help make it end sooner? I am praying it works because I have drank so much lemon juice in hope that it works. My schedule is so inconsistent that I really don’t know when it will come. It may come early, it may come late. If it doesn’t come at all I know I will freak. Just a few more days and it’ll all be done I tell myself. Just a few more days.