Merry Christmas! Here is the first entry for my guest blogger week, “Always ask ‘how”?. More info about this week here. Destiny is a great writer that has inspired me time and time again to keep trying, even if it seems futile. She has a great blog here on WordPress that you can find here. Enjoy!
“Hey, guys, so I go by the name Destiny on here; happilydpressed is my site. Jessica asked me to say a little bit about myself. Guess I’m your average dysfunctional 21-year-old girl from the Big Apple who is in love with writing. I’m currently working on getting published. Fingers crossed. WordPress is a great community, and I hope all of you find it to be as rewarding as I have.”
When I was a child, my father told me that I could be anything I wanted. There were infinite possibilities in front of me. My mind raced with crazy ideas, goals, and journeys just waiting to be had. How could someone pick just one profession when there were so many choices? I remember watching TV late at night and dreaming of becoming a super-spy, a surgeon, a teacher, an artist. Everything and anything. Eventually, life caught up with me. I was diagnosed with cancer my second year of high school. It wasn’t how I intended spending the summer before my sweet sixteen, but as fate had it, I sat in the hospital as my friends sat on the beach. The experience changed how I looked at the world around me. While I was saved, many of the children passed on the pediatric floor were not. It was the first time I realized how unfair life truly was. I suppose you can say it all went down hill for me after that. I tried to pick myself up. I honestly did, but nothing seemed enough. I vowed to become a pediatrician. I wanted to save lives just like someone saved mine. There had to be some reason I was still alive.
I finished my years in high school and began my journey to college with my schedule packed full of pre-med classes. Class after class, I began realizing how boring the whole saga was. My friends tried so hard, they took pride in their work; they were going to make excellent doctors. But me? I was a fuck up. I was clumsy. How could I think that I could handle the responsibility of taking care of another life? The idea become unfathomable. My life took a turn down hill. I went through a series of personal issues and somewhere along the road, I lost myself. I didn’t see it happening. I didn’t think it was at all even possible. I was a happy kid. I loved life. And yet, here I am.
Living with a disorder isn’t easy. Living with multiple is next to impossible. About two years ago, I was diagnosed with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, and Major Depression. What makes the disorders even harder to cope with is the fact that people around me cannot see them, and people have tendencies to believe only what they see. That makes understanding extraordinarily hard. Many try, I must admit, but none understand. This used to upset me. However, as much as I enjoy understanding, I’m glad no one I love has to go through the mental struggle I find myself in each day. People ask me if I’ve tried to stop being depressed. They tell me how my OCD quirks are normal, they obviously have OCD too. They tell me how everyone is anxious and they don’t know why I can’t deal with it. And, truth is, maybe I can’t. For a long time, I believed I did this to myself thanks to the opinions of everyone around me. But if therapy hasn’t taught me anything, it at least taught me that some things are out of our control. As much as I want to blame myself, I don’t think I can. But I am scared.
There is nothing more terrifying than believing ‘you can’t do something’. My life has become an obstacle course filled with restrictions. I now know I cannot be anything I want. Life doesn’t work like that. Even with medication, I’ve worsened. I find I can’t get out of bed most mornings to make it to class, so I’ve dropped out of school. My hands shake, so I’ve lost the ability to indulge in my passion for photography. I’m too anxious to be around people for too long, so I stay home. I can’t hold my sister’s hand because my OCD has made me uncomfortable with physical contact. Forget a romantic life. I lost interest in everything I once loved…except writing. I know I’m not going to become a super-spy, or a doctor, or even a teacher. But maybe, just maybe I’ll have a chance to publish my novel. I doubt I will ever be good enough, but if you can’t hold onto hope, you have nothing.
Although, I am more than broken, writing is who I am. As long as I’m here, I won’t let the pain take that away from me.