When I was in high school, I publicly expressed disappointment when I was not selected as the representative for our graduating class. Someone then told me, "well, you can't have everything."
My initial response was anger. Of course I know you can't have everything -- I don't want everything. I just want to achieve things I work hard for. It's only fair, right? I was the newspaper editor-in-chief, I was valedictorian, I was prom queen, I was on every student council there was, and I felt like I deserved all of it because I'd worked hard. Life seems simple when you are seventeen.
I graduated and went to my first choice of colleges. It was there that I started to face the "real world." I failed my first calculus exam -- my first failed test ever, despite visiting the professor's office for extra help and the night tutor daily. I didn't get a bid from any of the sororities I wanted when I did rush in the fall. And in the spring. I was rejected when I applied to be an RA. My boyfriend of four years started resenting the distance between us and had streaks of jealousy. Our relationship deteriorated and eventually ended. I later discovered he'd been seeing his best friend's ex-girlfriend.
I completely broke down. I attempted suicide despite the love and support of my family and friends. They caught me soon after I swallowed all the pills, though, and rushed me to the hospital.
My college would not let me return, and I enrolled at Portland State University, with none of the big scholarships I'd earned. I stayed with my parents who no longer trusted me to care for myself properly. They took away my cell phone and needed their permission to do anything.
Recovery was a long, slow process with many relapses into depression and anorexia. I am still prone to them. Every time I face disappointment, it reopens the wound and I struggle to keep together.
But even as I look back at all of this, I realize that I'm one of the lucky ones. I was able to have the medical care that saved my life. I was able to have a secondary education.
It has been five years since I attempted suicide. I have a million regrets, but I've been lucky enough to come away from all my mistakes in one piece.
My initial response was anger. Of course I know you can't have everything -- I don't want everything. I just want to achieve things I work hard for. It's only fair, right? I was the newspaper editor-in-chief, I was valedictorian, I was prom queen, I was on every student council there was, and I felt like I deserved all of it because I'd worked hard. Life seems simple when you are seventeen.
I graduated and went to my first choice of colleges. It was there that I started to face the "real world." I failed my first calculus exam -- my first failed test ever, despite visiting the professor's office for extra help and the night tutor daily. I didn't get a bid from any of the sororities I wanted when I did rush in the fall. And in the spring. I was rejected when I applied to be an RA. My boyfriend of four years started resenting the distance between us and had streaks of jealousy. Our relationship deteriorated and eventually ended. I later discovered he'd been seeing his best friend's ex-girlfriend.
I completely broke down. I attempted suicide despite the love and support of my family and friends. They caught me soon after I swallowed all the pills, though, and rushed me to the hospital.
My college would not let me return, and I enrolled at Portland State University, with none of the big scholarships I'd earned. I stayed with my parents who no longer trusted me to care for myself properly. They took away my cell phone and needed their permission to do anything.
Recovery was a long, slow process with many relapses into depression and anorexia. I am still prone to them. Every time I face disappointment, it reopens the wound and I struggle to keep together.
But even as I look back at all of this, I realize that I'm one of the lucky ones. I was able to have the medical care that saved my life. I was able to have a secondary education.
It has been five years since I attempted suicide. I have a million regrets, but I've been lucky enough to come away from all my mistakes in one piece.
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