College Sucks!

One day you will tell your story of how you overcame what you're going through now, and it will be someone else's survival guide. - Anonymous

I graduated today! Yay! I am FREE! Free from constant worry over grades. Free from late nights and early mornings of reading and writing. Free from the prison that is school!

Some of you might say, "Sydney, that's a bit dramatic. School isn't that bad." Well, for me, it was that bad. College gave me anxiety and depression and kept making those conditions worse and worse as each semester went by. If you want to know more about my freshman and sophomore experience, read my blog posts, "My Freshman Experience" and "The Beginning of My Depression." This blog post is about my senior year -- senior semester to be more exact.

I graduated a semester early despite two changes in my major and battling all kinds of mental issues. This semester was the toughest one I had ever had because I pushed myself to keep going despite one major hiccup in the road.

In the slap middle of this semester, I greatly contemplated overdosing on my sleeping pills, and after being forced by a dear friend to talk with USM's counseling services, I was admitted to the ER which then had me admitted to a psychiatric facility. I was there for three days with no contact with the outside world. I slept most of the time, but I also conversed with other patients, attended helpful groups, and ate some okay food. Thankfully, I have been doing really well since being released from the "insane asylum," but I still remember that day vividly.

I got maybe two hours of sleep. I woke up at 4:00 am to complete three major assignments due that morning. In hindsight, I would not have completed even one of those assignments due to the long hours I put into them later in the semester, but I remember sitting in my car on campus trying to search my mind, body, and soul for any sort of motivation to do those assignments. I found nothing. No motivation, and no will to live anymore. I was so tired. Tired from not getting enough sleep. Tired of worrying about the assignments. Tired of living. I wanted it all to go away. The pain felt so unbearable. I sat in my car and screamed at the top of my lungs as I cried my eyes out because I hated myself. I hated how I could even want to kill myself. I hated how weak I felt for not wanting to push through. But most of all, I hated God for putting me through this fire. I did not want it. I still don't want it, but the heat is not as high now, thankfully.

Look! Look at freshman Sydney. With her hopes and dreams ahead of her waiting to be crushed by the mammoth's hoof that is a university experience. So innocent and bright-eyed in her college dorm room!

Look! Look at college graduate Sydney. Yes, she's fatter, has poor eyesight, and constantly battles anxiety and depressive episodes, but she wouldn't wish to go back to being freshman Sydney because freshman Sydney still had college ahead of her, and present-day Sydney has gone through the wringer and is still here. Breathing, living, and happy.

As I was sitting through the commencement ceremony today, I was thinking of how I didn’t get academic awards and honors. I didn’t spend my college career studying into the wee hours of the morning to make A’s on everything. I didn’t get out of my shell to meet new people. I went to sleep at a reasonable hour because if I stayed up late, I would be left alone with my demons. I would wake up early and hit the grind and accomplish so much, then would wake up the next day feeling nothing at all. No motivation. No will to live, eat, sleep, or pee. Not everybody knows what it’s like to fight for your life. To have to fight against yourself in order to keep breathing. But I know what that’s like. That’s what I’ve done these past three and a half years. I fought. I fought so hard. And you know what? I’m still here. I’m still breathing, and I am stronger for what I’ve been through. 

I don't write this blog post to gain sympathy, so please do not tell me how much you care that I am here or how special I am. I know I am special, but in some moments, life just hits me and I can't help it.

I write this blog post to advocate for seeking help when you need it if you are struggling. If you are someone who struggles with their mental health, please please please seek help. That can take the form of many different things: medicine, a counselor, or just a family member or friend to call in times of distress. I use all of these methods and it is still a struggle, but I know for a fact that my struggles would be so much worse if I did nothing at all. Dealing with it on your own is awful. I tried it, and it made it worse. Please seek help; I will be more than happy to talk with you about anything!

I also write this blog post to praise God for getting me through these past three and a half years. I have had a love-hate relationship with God for the past two years. It's been rough, to be honest. Why would a God who loves me put me through the worst kind of pain? (Yes, I label this as the worst kind of pain because you cannot trust yourself with this condition, and you should always be able to trust yourself no matter what.) However, I have concluded that God loves me no matter what; no matter how many times I turn away from Him, he is always there. He has given me these trials to make me stronger and ready for life to help those who also struggle.

Peace out college! Hello working seven days a week just to make rent and pay bills!

"Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-4 ESV