When Enough is Enough (Part 1)

I’ve suffered from mild depression throughout my life. I’ve always been able to function and it was never severe enough that I was ever in danger. But I did (and sometimes still do) have to fight.

In high school, I came home crying most of the time and couldn’t point to why. I wasn’t bullied or picked on, just very unhappy. In college, while still on prescription meds from high school, I started to not feel anything anymore. I felt numb to life. Right before I turned 21, I abruptly went off my meds during the ending of a 6-year relationship because I wanted to “feel something”.

The time between college and now is a mishmash of ups and downs. Before I turned 31, another long-term relationship of mine ended. It was supposed to have ended amicably and we were supposed to remain friends, but things unfortunately turned out messier than anticipated due to a variety of circumstances. Eventually, I moved out and tried to move on, but I was in a dark place. I walked a fine line of holding on to my past as tightly as I could and wanting to burn it to the ground while dancing on the ashes. I cried a lot. I talked about it with my friends a lot. Even living on my own, I didn’t want to stay at home. I needed something I couldn’t find, or didn’t even know to look for.

A blessing in disguise, my rent was going up significantly and I had to find yet another new place to live. After weighing all the pros and cons, after sobbing to my ex that I wanted to keep our friendship, after frantically trying to find something in my price range, I decided to move closer to work (roughly an hour in L.A. traffic away from my friends and ex). I couldn’t have made a better decision. I have more space for less money and a significantly shorter daily commute.

Not only were my living arrangements better, but I had also started back on a different medication to balance out my mood. I can’t attribute my better disposition to any one thing, but the combination did wonders for me. I was finally taking care of myself and doing what I needed to do. I realized that the time I spent worrying about other people and desperately trying to make things work was much better spent on me. I enjoyed being home for once. I enjoyed being with myself. I was better equipped to deal with the relationships that were giving me such heartache just a month or two before.

Yes, there are still rough times. But I know I can get through them. Because I’ve had enough of not taking care of myself. I’ve had enough of not putting myself first. I’ve had enough of bullying the mind and body and heart that have gotten me this far in life, and helped me do such amazing things. I got this.