If you read parts one and two of “The Beginning of a Long Mental Health Journey,” you read two snippets of times that the friends I had in specific periods of my life were actually what I now consider mental health superheroes. Let’s take a bit of a deep dive, shall we?
Middle School:
My middle school friends knew me to be colorful (literally, I could wear the entire rainbow in one outfit), dramatic (I won the “Drama Queen” superlative for our class yearbook), secretly gay (no explanation needed?), and a perfectionist. In middle school, I had my life all planned out. I wanted — no, needed — to graduate top of my class, get into a prestigious private school (preferably a boarding school) so I would then graduate from high school and attend Harvard and go on to law school. Not a joke, that’s actually what I demanded myself to want from life when I was in middle school. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with shooting for the stars, I actually know someone in my middle school that did end up going to a prestigious boarding school and then Harvard, although they didn’t go the law school route. So shooting for the stars can be a beautiful thing. The problem for me was that good was never actually good enough. B’s were pathetic, I stayed up until 4 in the morning completing assignments and projects. I needed to be a star student academically, the holiest Christian — ensuring that my “school sexuality” didn’t seep into my weekend church existence, and the perfect daughter. Even for 29 year old me, all of that pressure sounds exhausting and it was. I began self harming, not something my childhood brain thought would become a habit but it did. I still remember my friends confronting me in the girls’ bathroom about it when they saw my scars. They then went to our school’s guidance counselor and told her that they were worried about me. I recognize that as the beginning of my mental health journey because had they not done that, I’m not sure when or if I would’ve gotten help in middle school. To my middle school friends, if you are reading this by chance: thank you!
College:
Okay, so I did not end up going to Harvard and then law school. Somewhere along my journey I realized how much I loved performing. I went to the University of Connecticut and studied acting instead and I felt incredibly grateful to be in the program. But I also felt a lot of pressure. I needed my talent to speak for itself, I yearned for my professors to look at me and applaud me and my work — I needed the validation, without it I felt mediocre and I was not a mediocre actor. When the panic attacks started I felt like I was losing control and I couldn’t afford to lose control because I needed to maintain my ability to be a quality performer, amazing girlfriend, and overall solid student. The panic attacks slowly got worse, I was sometimes having 4-5 panic attacks in a week and sometimes more than one in just a day. I was terrified of going places that I knew would be crowded and I began depending on alcohol to help me “loosen up”. I loss out on roles that I really wanted, I failed a class for the first time in my life because I was too hungover for the final exam, and I began sabotaging my relationship until I broke up with the person I was dating. I hated myself for ruining my own life, I was convinced that no one was to blame but me. I felt like I failed myself at being a quality performer, an amazing girlfriend, and an overall solid student. It all hit a boiling point when one night during a panic attack I completely lost control. I vaguely remember my friends trying to calm me, they were worried — I could see in their eyes and hear in their voices how worried they were. They were so worried that they called my mom to ask her for help, they didn’t know whether they should call 911 or let me sleep it off. They were eventually able to subdue me. I woke up the next morning and I remember going to breakfast with my friends. They informed me that they emailed my acting professor and let him know I wouldn’t be able to make it to class that day because of an emergency and instead one friend walked me over to the mental health clinic on campus. I remember being upset with my friends, but now I wish to honor them. To my college friends, if you’re reading this by chance: thank you!
I didn’t have the ability either of those times to make healthy choices for myself but I had real life angels that were placed in my life to keep me safe and guide me towards healing. These individuals, whether we still talk or not, will forever be my superheroes because I would not be the person I am today without them and what they did for me. I didn’t say thank you then but if you’re reading this now I want you to know I owe you my life, thank you! #YourMentalHealthBestie wouldn’t exist had you not been my mental health superhero.