Looking Into A Past Journal Entry

I’m going through my Google Docs from quarantine, when I was deep in a depression. I found one named ‘My thoughts on things’; it’s filled with various topics like religion, school and even the construct of time (why was I so philosophical at twelve?). But the one that stood out was titled “Growing Up.” This had always been a fear of mine from a young age; I cried when I got moved into the older kids’ church group. I never wanted to change or let go of the different phases of my life.

Growing up felt like I was forgetting myself. I let the overwhelming anxiety stop me from letting go and truly living in the moment. I was always concerned with the past, never the future. In this ‘journal’ entry, among others, I mentioned the battles I was facing in my head. 

Now, in all honesty, I don’t even remember what I was so sad about; even after reading the entries, I don’t know what started the sadness or anxiety and caused them to sustain themselves. But that’s what depression is sometimes, right? An unwelcome, ever-present gnat that burrowed itself into your head. It’s there with no rhyme or reason but difficult to get rid of once it’s settled. 

Despite not remembering the initial cause or specifics of my depression, I do remember being a young teenage girl feeling helpless in her room. Sometimes I still do feel like that girl. Looking back and reading the entries, I can see just how far I’ve come. I don’t know when exactly the overwhelming hopelessness went away, but it did.

If you had asked the version of me that had written about the overwhelming melancholy, I’m sure she would be convinced it would never end. That I would be stuck in the depth of my emotions for the rest of my life. That even before my life had yet to start- I mean it still hasn’t- there was no point in trying. 

In the entries, I curse myself for doing well in school before these unwelcome emotions developed, for having friends and a life and for creating ‘unrealistic’ standards for myself. But they were realistic; I am living up to them now. I do well in school, I have a social life, and most of all, I am not living inside of my head, convinced it will never get better. 

Looking back and reading these, I cringe, questioning why I was so dramatic to begin with. Did I just sit in bed listening to music, staring at the wall? Did I think that would help? Or was I comfortable in my sadness? Did I truly not believe I could get better? 

Everything up until now was written the summer before my senior year of high school. I don’t know for sure, but it probably would’ve ended with some cliche advice stolen from an old book or show (I still do this). I can make guesses about what this younger version of me had discovered, what habits she got rid of, or what she had discovered about herself, but I will never truly know. She has her secrets that I will have to figure out again for myself. 

But now, as I read this and the original entries, I relate more to the younger, more overdramatic version of myself. I am in a transitional period of my life, and I’m expected to be growing faster than I can keep up with; everything is new and different. When I originally did this reflecting I had been in the same environment for years, I had time to adjust and find what worked for me. Coming to college has not only put me onto this unpaved path but also forced me to accept that I am growing up. The confidence I had before senior year has been erased; I’m starting from scratch again, questioning how to get back to this version of myself. 

This has been the first time in years that I have struggled with grades or keeping up with assignments, something that historically has been a manageable task for me. During my senior year I took the same amount of college classes along with high school ones, and I had an internship and executive roles in my clubs, all of which I managed gracefully. At least it is graceful compared to how I am handling my far lighter workload now. While I do have friends and a community, it feels awfully separated, similar to how it did then. These small factors, amongst others, have built up to create that familiar feeling of melancholy to seep back into my life.

Despite all of these negative emotions, it does give me hope. Everything in life is cyclical; I will have days, like today, where I feel like my over-dramatic past self and others were optimistic. I do not think these feelings erase all of the progress entirely, but rather they pave the way to recover. Both of these versions show that I can and will get better. Or worse—and that’s okay.

• #growing up
• journaling
• mental health