I started this blog back in 2013 in anticipation for a journalism conference I was attending in Washington, D.C. In the six years since its creation, my blog and website have both evolved alongside me. I’ve written about controversial topics, style, sex, life and other people. I’ve discovered myself as a content creator and lover of all things lifestyle. But this chapter is closing, and I want to bid you all farewell.
A lot has happened to me since I was fifteen, some easily predicted and others completely unforeseeable. I graduated high school with multiple honors back in 2015 and was accepted into my dream school, where I started in the fall of 2015. While writing on this blog, I’ve fallen in and out of love, I’ve hurt people and have been hurt myself, I’ve opened up to people in a way that I would never do face-to-face and, most importantly, I’ve been able to use my writing as a way to better understand myself and others.
This past year, 2018, was the hardest year of my life. I became an adult in 2018. I matured quicker than I think I ever have. A lot of the things that I’ve been going through I’ve neglected to publicly speak about due to privacy reasons and wanting to cope with my own struggles without the input or opinions of others. In fact, 2018 was the year that I learned to stop caring about others’ opinions of me.
In March of last year, I made the hardest decision of my life, something that I struggle with daily, and that both triggered and ailed a lot of my mental health problems. After working for nearly ten years to go to a school that I had dreamed of going to and that lived up to my family’s high expectations and lineage, I left UNC Chapel Hill after spending the night in the psychiatric ward of UNC’s hospital. At nearly three in the morning, I drove myself to the emergency room – only a couple of blocks from the dorm I lived in my freshman year – and checked myself in, afraid of harming myself.
To do a quick rewind, I’ve been suicidal since I was thirteen years old. That’s the earliest I can remember wanting to take my own life and though I’ve only seriously considered committing suicide a handful of other times since then, I strongly believe that “being suicidal” is something that never actually leaves you. Since I first was suicidal, suicide has always remained an option for me.
Over the years, I have struggled with depression and anxiety and what I believe might be some bipolar disorder. I have been medicated to the point that I feel high and I have completely cut meds off, learning quickly how fast the half-life of medications can affect you. I have harmed myself, I have been destructive to myself and others and, more recently, I have cried, shaking in my boyfriend’s arms going into a panic attack because I was afraid of genuinely hurting myself, even though I didn’t want to die.
I was very quiet about leaving UNC because I was worried about being labeled as the girl who didn’t succeed or achieve what everyone was expecting of me. Hell, I was voted “most inspirational” in high school, but as I was stripped of my personal belongings and given a hospital gown, peeing into a cup and having blood drawn, sitting alone in a room and on suicide watch, I was the complete opposite of who I had been and who I wanted to become.
My mental health only worsened after I came home. I struggled with adapting back into a non-school environment and having to face the harsh reality and tough-love of the adult world. My suicidal tendencies began to increase and most evenings, lying in bed, the only way to calm myself down to sleep would be to imagine myself bleeding out peacefully in a bathtub.
But I continued to work, write, do what made me feel like myself, and what I thought other people wanted to see from me. I wanted it to seem like I’d never faltered, like I’d left school for bigger things or for “soul-searching,” when the tough reality was that I was never genuinely happy or fulfilled at Chapel Hill, and that fucking ruined me.
In the ten months that I’ve been home, I have learned more about myself than I believe I ever could have learned in school or in my previous twenty years of life. I have learned how to adapt, how to push through, how to survive. I have faced the tough reality of the adult world all while being in full panic mode the whole time. I have somehow managed to pull through it all, without giving much of my personal struggles away.
But here’s the thing: I’m still struggling. I’m better than I was when I left school and I’m better than I was two months ago, but I’m still not who I want to be, who I’m going to become. I’m still working on myself and as I continue to grow, I am learning new things about myself that I would have never known if life hadn’t been such a bitch to me in 2018.
That’s why I’ve decided to stop blogging and stop producing most content, indefinitely. This does not mean that I’m not still creating or working in my own way, but I won’t be producing any content available to the public for quite a while. I need time to live and breathe life into things that are more meaningful to me. Because right now the only person I need to worry about is myself, plain and simple.
Thank you all for six amazing years. Time has flown by.
Until next time,