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mydisenchantedlife · 1 month ago

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Making Life Bearable

When I talked to my dad about my medications, he told me I should get off them before I become dependent. But here’s the thing, Dad—I already am.

One of my medications helps me sleep. Without it, I can stay awake for 36 hours straight, wired and exhausted at the same time, until my body finally collapses. And yes, I’ve tried everything—showers, darkness, turning off all electronics, calming sounds, melatonin. None of it works. It’s not just “bad sleep”—it’s like my brain forgets how to shut off.

Another set keeps my depression and anxiety in check. Without them, I stop functioning. I start feeling afraid to go outside, afraid to even step out of my room. The world becomes too loud, too fast, too much. I shrink into myself and disappear.

And then there’s the one that regulates my hormones. It keeps my periods regular—because without it, I can go over a year without one. That might sound convenient until you realize it makes me more vulnerable to ovarian cancer, something I’m already at risk for.

So yes, I’m dependent on my meds. But not because I’m weak. Because I’m fighting every single day to live a life that feels manageable, bearable, worth it.

These medications don’t make me broken. They help me hold myself together.

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mydisenchantedlife · 2 months ago

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Why am I such a burden

#mental health #trauma #kinda depressing #therapy #food #feelings #parents #relationship #family

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mydisenchantedlife · 3 months ago

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There are days I wish I could go back—to a time when I still believed I had potential. Back when the future felt wide open, not defined by everything I’ve already done wrong. Now, it feels like I’m stuck in this loop of disappointment, constantly tripping over the same regrets. Starting over shouldn’t feel this impossible. But after you’ve fallen once—really fallen—everything feels heavier, harder to lift.

The first semester of college changed me. I don’t know if there’s a single word that can contain what that semester meant. Disappointing. Traumatic. Transformative. Crushing. It was the first domino, and once it tipped, the rest followed, one after another.

I remember being terrified, but hopeful. I was the only one of my friends who left our hometown. Everyone else stayed. I wanted something different. I thought leaving would open doors—but there are still days I wonder if I made the wrong choice. Maybe things would’ve been easier if I had just stayed like they did. Maybe one day I’ll believe I made the right decision. But that day is not today.

My first day of college, I felt jittery but excited. Math and fine arts felt doable, even fun. But English and ethics? Those classes asked me to speak up, to connect, to be seen—and that was too much. I started skipping them first. Then, it all snowballed. Slowly, I stopped going to any classes at all.

My anxiety was like a wall between me and the outside world. It started with missing lectures and ended with me unable to even walk to the dining hall across the street. In the beginning, I would still get dressed and ready, backpack on, keys in hand… but I couldn’t open the door. My dorm became my cage. And I didn’t tell a soul.

I lied. I said I was fine. I smiled through FaceTime calls and texted that things were going great. But inside, I was sinking. That silence lasted three years.

It was like I dug myself into a hole so deep, my voice couldn't reach the surface anymore. And eventually, I stopped trying to call for help.

Now, the damage feels permanent. My college transcript is a scar I can’t hide. A weight that follows me into every new beginning, whispering, you already failed once.

I want to start over. I really do. But how do you rebuild when your past is always the first thing people see?

#mental health #therapy #trauma #kinda depressing #food #college #student #emotions #emotional #feelings #anger

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