In which I chose to keep going.

I’m staring at the bathroom mirror. Trying to find the girl that use to be inside, but I keep drawing a blank. My freshly dyed black hair is hanging in chunks around my face. I could brush it, but that would take energy that I currently don’t have.

It’s a Saturday and it’s late. I should be working on one of the six essays that need to be done by the end of the month. And no I’m not being dramatic. I have a history essay for the First World War; an English essay on Charles Dickens; another history essay for rhetoric; plus the speech for that class where I have to write a shorter essay on my argument and the rhetoric tools I used; an archaeology essay on Gilgamesh; and a final paper for Islamic studies. Getting a degree was no joke; especially when you needed to take five courses a term in order to squeeze in all the requirements for a BA and an education degree.

I don’t even know if I want to be a teacher anymore. But I’m terrified to drop the degree. Even if I do switch to a double degree in English and history, what kind of job is that going to get me?

But I can’t imagine myself as a hip high school English teacher anymore. Not when I can’t agree with half the philosophies the Ed program suggests. And if they knew about my mental health problems…. I’d be kicked out in a heartbeat. I mean lord forbid someone have depression? I just wanted to inspire kids to read and want to write. I just wanted to help people analysis important pieces of literature. I want to help. But the intro to Education was exhausting. And if I do go forward with the practicum, then I have to potentially give up my job, move away from the university for placement and magically have a car. While still needing to pay for my room and bored at school, food and now a car and gas. How am I suppose to make that work?

I can feel the hot spots creeping up my neck. My face starts to flush as I panic myself into what can only be described as a mild form of hives.

Good job Lane. Let’s have a panic attack, yeah that’s going to help.

I want to scream at myself. What happened to me? I use to have this plan. I mean sure I always got stressed out about it… and maybe I wasn’t always happy. But I don’t really have a problem, it’s all in my head.

See the problem was I was terrified to get a digitnosis for depression and anxiety. I was aware that it was probably a problem. People don’t just get in the random thought to drive off a bridge, or to step out in front of a bus. Sure we all joke about it in university. But I think that’s part of the problem. No one knows who’s joking and who might actually do it. Some days the only thing holding me back was an unnatural fear of death and a strong sense of duty to my family. Mum and dad would be crushed and who would take care of my sister when they got older? I had to figure my shit out.

My reflection is frowning now. And I think I feel worst. What’s the point of all this? And why am I putting myself through all of this? I have no idea and I feel like I’m slipping away more and more each day.

My phone buzzes.

It’s the family group chat. I prepare myself for the worst. But it’s just mum showing us the pumpkins her and dad carved this year. I send a heart emoji and discard my phone back on the counter. I need to read a few chapters for my Dickens essay.

I turn the bath tub faucet all the way to the hot side. The hot water tank is going in the condo building. So if I don’t fill the tub with as much hot water as I can, it will be cold.

I stare at the bath tub filling with water and start crying.

If I fell asleep in the bath and drowned then I wouldn’t have to make anymore decisions. The thought is quick and simple. And my brain follows it like a bee to pollen.

It would look like an accident. I mean I’m sure some people would suspect something. But the family could tell themselves what ever lie the needed to get through it. Professor Carter wouldn’t have to read another esssay about the passage of time and being stuck in the past in Dickens’s Great Expectations. And I wouldn’t disappoint Dr. Khalil. I’ve done some great work in his class so far and with my current brain, I don’t know if I can give him the essay he wants. It would be so easy to just stop.

I mean I was slowly getting older. Had no idea who or what I was. And I’d basically become the girl who could turn off her emotions in a heart beat.

Would it really be so bad?

My heart is drumming in my ears. I almost don’t hear my phone ring again.

Mum has sent me a picture of Lexi. My beautiful welsh corgi. She’s out in the back yard of their new home. A big red leave has fallen on her head and she looks so pleased with herself.

I sniffle a sob. And text mum back that Lexi looks cute. I’m flooded with more videos and photos of the dog. Dad is chasing her around the house and she’s just happy that they’ve all moved in. They’ve been separated as dad is transfer to his new job and mum was working on selling the old house and packing.

Mum also texts me, “two weeks!”

Right! Reading week is in two weeks. I look at the bath tub again and breath a sigh. Dumping in some bath salts I grab my book for Dickens. Two weeks. Two weeks and I’ll be home. I’ll see my dog. Get to watch a horror movie with dad, and mum wants to go shopping. My sister is pretty excited too. Two weeks. I can make two weeks.

That’s 14 days. Only ten days of classes. And only six shifts of work. I relax. I’m not going to fall asleep in the bath. Because I can survive another two weeks. I’m sure I can. I just have to push through….

I wish that was the last time I struggled with those thoughts. They’d come up here and there through out the years. But that was the first moment that I started to learn how to trick my brain into relaxing. I’d find a date, something to reach towards and keep pushing to. I’d promise those feelings that if we felt the same way then after a week, a month, a year, we could end it. That’s how I survived countless times over. Till I was ready to finally tell my parents I didn’t want to be a teacher, and took control of my degree.

I look back at that time now and realize that was the pivot point. In which I chose to keep going. And learned to survive by myself. And in doing so, I dragged myself along the way and met my friends that would help to carry me through a lot more struggles.

Because it didn’t get easier. And well I was about to see a lot of amazing rewards and live through some wonderful moments. All hell was about to break loose in the next two years.

I was not and am not done learning. But you know what they say, it gets worst before it gets better.