At the end of 2017, I was really excited for the new year. I had so much to look forward to in 2018. Then 2018 came and kicked my butt real hard. I don’t know what it was, but suddenly everything just seemed to suck the life out of me, like some weird vampire. 2018 was a vampire that fed on happiness. It was strange because I have everything I could possibly want: my family got the house we’ve always wanted, I got the job I thought I deserved, I was making a lot more money, I loved my classes, I loved my coworkers, etc. So why wasn’t I happy?
I told myself I NEEDED to happy and I criticized myself whenever I was not. So I pretended, that everything was okay, that I was happy, that I didn’t need help. I told myself I had survived a year without medication, that I didn’t need it. But no matter how much I told myself I was fine, nothing was fine.
I used to tell my friends whenever I had a breakdown, but eventually, I felt one-noted. I kept it to myself, I knew they weren’t my therapists. So I bottled it up, I told no one that the dark feelings I felt my freshman year of college had come back. I didn’t tell anyone that I lost all motivation. I didn’t tell anyone that I would cry, a lot. That I would get home from work and collapse onto my bed and just lay there for hours knowing I had plenty of things to do. I didn’t tell anyone that I lost all hope and trust in everything and everyone.
Then I broke down. I cried at work. It was over something stupid but suddenly the picture I created in my mind, that everything was okay, it burned down. I remember sitting in the fitting room at work trying to pull myself together, when my coworker called me over to ask me a question. I walked over to him and answered his question, trying not to make it obvious that I had been crying. He stared at me questioningly, and I quickly tried to walk away before he noticed. It was too late though, because as I began to walk away he said, “hey dahlia…” I looked at him and smiled to try to sell it. I don’t think he bought it because in a sincere voice, more sincere than i had ever heard him use before, he asked: “are you okay?”
I lost it. I started crying again. Those three words broke me. And for the first time in a long time, I realized I was not okay.
He began to apologize, but I told him it wasn’t his fault, that it was something stupid, but I would be okay. And in the moment I didn’t know if I was lying, I didn’t know if I would ever be okay, all I knew was that I needed help.
I realized, that I needed to face the facts. I need to admit I was not okay and I needed to learn that it was okay. That it’s okay to need extra help. Because humans aren’t perfect and they shouldn’t be expected to be perfect.
I’m far from being okay, but I know somehow I will get there. Even if it means quitting the job I love, I need to figure out what is best for my health.