I moved in! Our room is colorful and bright and cozy, and my roommates and I are already insanely busy with classes and clubs and music. When you have to introduce yourself during the awkward ice breakers at the beginning of class, it’s really weird to say “I’m a sophomore!” It still feels like I’m 14 and like I have no excuse to get lost on campus even though I absolutely did. I’m happy to be back and I’m excited about what I’m doing this semester. But the feeling came back.
I’ve done therapy thing. I know the confidentiality agreements and when they’re broken and I’m a pro at telling them my medicines and how much I take and when I take them and how long I’ve been on them. I know to tell them my history and family problems and they all get kind of stunned that I go through it so fast. I knew on Wednesday when I walked into intake at the Wellness Center that it would be hard. I feel like I’ve done what I need to do in therapy, but in order to get my medicine from the school I have to go to therapy.
I cried on the new therapist’s couch because I remembered exactly what last semester felt like. I’m always anxious about being anxious but when that little ping in my chest came back, I got too overwhelmed. That night I had a panic attack- the first one since November. I had to take my medicine again. It felt like I had taken one step forward and then basically had to start my life over again. It’s discouraging and scary and I’m angry, but it’s out of my control. I know the coping techniques and I have the medicine, but it’s something I just have to deal with. I know I’ll be fine, but IT SUCKS. I’m over it, but I’ve done it before and I apparently have to do it again.
So, shout out to my family and my friends for putting up with my moments. I repeat the mantra multiple times a day, but having you by my side makes the little pang in my heart a little bit better every day.
Noli timere, loves. This too shall pass.