I’ll never forget the day I walked into my room, and my heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. As a twenty-something, and just like most twenty-somethings, I had a plan, a vision, a picture of what my life was supposed to be during this season. It wasn’t supposed to be me staring at my twin bed. I flicked my shoes off and tossed my things in a dusty corner as I collapsed onto my bed, sobbing. My sobs would turn into crying, my cries into screaming, my screams into silence.
There were many factors that lead up to this moment not just one, or two, but quite a few.
First, which is probably most typical I suppose, a long-term relationship had ended. One that I had invested so much of my time, effort, and emotions into…was done. I found myself put in a place with a major learning curve.
It was an experience I never imagined I would EVER find myself in or closely related to… having to rebuild myself in all aspects. I was sinking slowly, my feet being the first to disappear, keeping myself from taking the proper steps into healing and moving forward. I was in quicksand, continuing to sink.
In this season of life I had fallen victim of verbal abuse, from someone that was supposed to be my “sidekick” “best-friend” “my plus 1”. A developing pattern that happened slowly over time. Years, and years went by before I could identify, and acknowledge the pattern of mental abuse. Constantly being told what is “wrong” & “right”, having things being held over my head constantly, degraded, inferior, “don’t do this” or “don’t do that”, “grow-up”, “you’re so immature”, “get a life”, “you’re so dumb”, “get a clue”, “your parents think the same of you”, “you can never do anything right”, “you’re wearing that?”. . . I was compared to others, controlled, put into an imaginary box unable to step out, and be ME.
There are many of you that can slap a label and connect the dots to this behavior. I can too! Narcissism can be icky, sticky, and tricky. Separating myself was the hardest, and not because of a broken heart. Sure, my heart was broken, but not because of “love”. My self-esteem, confidence, personality, mental state… Everything a part of me was broken. The process of repairing myself was far different than the healing process of a healthy break-up. I had feelings of guilt, and shame. I felt unworthy. I felt disgusting, gross, ugly. . . I hated myself. I had fallen into a deep depression. I began to spiral into poor choices both socially and financially sinking deep into the quicksand that had taken over my life.
My only hope was my family, and friends. They were the ones who came to my rescue. I was given direction, and hope. I was given a hand to hold through this time of healing. It was in this time when I had a “Ah-Ha” moment of self-realization, and reflection of the importance of mental health, and wellness. I entered upon the realization that “It’s Okay Not To Be Okay”, and asking for help is not a sign of weakness, but a sign of Strength.
Emily is a Registered Behavior Therapist that works with children on the Autism Spectrum. She is also in her last year of college and plans to graduate with a Bachelors in English Literature and History. When she’s not teaching kids to better themselves, she loves to explore new places and write about her experiences in her life. She’s inspired by fierce female protagonists such as in the book Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. She’s also a lover of all things coffee, pizza, and painting.