Years ago, my college therapist told me that I should “try to be the person I wished I had when I was younger”. Let’s see…as a young adolescent in California sitting alone on that bench playing Sudoku for a few moments of silence between chaotic voices of depression and OCD, whom did I wish I had? Suddenly the thought hit me: am I really a different person now? Have I ever been compassionate and nurturing towards myself, have I ever been the person I needed?
My memories of middle and high school are honestly my most traumatic ones. The ones that haunt me in my dreams and breath on my neck while I’m awake. And they bring with them the crippling fear that maybe I will become a loser again. And maybe, I still am. Maybe my luck with improved skin and a more stable mood is a fluke.
As an teen, I was the creepy girl in the back corner. I didn’t have any friends, to be completely frank. I wasn’t one of the popular kids, but I also wasn’t one of the “normal” kids. For reasons that I probably will never fully understand, I was the human equivalent of bug spray. The only people I ever attracted were the ones who would peek into my space to call me names, fulfill their Truth or Dare games (“go bark at the weird girl!”) , or had to be there because we were placed in the same group project by the teacher.
I didn’t think things would ever improve. I would NEVER have imagined that I would one day have amazing friends who would send me thoughtful letters and surprise me with parties and bear-hugs. Or that I would have a smart, witty, loving boyfriend who is even weirder than me. Or that I would love myself and feel confident in my body. Sometimes I sit and think to myself, what did I do to deserve these wonderful things? How the hell did I get on this track of progress and love and strength when I had almost every sign of a continued life of absolute misery?
I live my own version of Impostor Syndrome every day. I feel like this isn’t meant to be my life, how could it? How could I have days where I don’t feel like jumping out the window? How is it possible that people like me? I wonder if people only pretend to like me because they feel sorry for me and are trying to stack up karma points.
I always lived my life feeling like one of the background characters in a movie. I could see people experiencing the drama, the love, the heartbreak, the friendships and successes, while I was just silently sipping fake tea in a coffee shop to add ambiance to the setting. Good things didn’t happen to me.
And now, here I am, experiencing life and having my own chances as the main character.
How???
After all the pondering and anxiety that maybe the law of large numbers would take hold and bring me back to being the loser I always was, I’ve realized that we are greater than the probabilities we think we stand for. Our default outcomes are not misery and failure. Humans are so much more resilient than we think, and it’s our resiliency that pushes us to be better to ourselves in the long run.
This is obviously just my person opinion, but I truly believe in it. The biggest factor in our future success is the level to which we stand up for ourselves. College forced me to put myself in the foreground of my movie- I couldn’t just “get by” anymore. I moved to a new state over 8000 miles away from my family, I had loans, I had a career to think about, and for the first time I had nobody to look after me but myself. I had to become the person I needed for myself, my own caretaker and my own best friend, because it hit me that nobody knew me better than I did and I wasn’t going to live another life. As much as I loved living in my fantasy of a parallel universe where I was a queen and people were all nice and mental illness wasn’t real, if I kept going on the path I was on, I wouldn’t live very long. And over the course of a year, things got better. They really did.
I attributed it to the fluke, the biggest fuck-up that the universe ever dealt, that I was becoming a main character with an actual life. But the truth was that I was finally standing up for myself. I got better because I went to therapists and took medications. I allowed myself to have good things and have good experiences instead of questioning the sanity of the people who wanted me around. And slowly, very slowly, my inner BFF came forward and I could hear her guiding me, holding my hand, saying “You got this. You will be okay. You will make it, I promise you. Just keep going.”
The voice gets quieter at times, even silent at times, replaced with a deafening ring. But I’ve gradually become better at bringer her back.
Don’t worry, I’m not talking about the voices that come with certain cases of schizophrenia. I’m not hearing things.
I’m talking about the voice that we all have in the back of our minds that are telling us what we need. The voice of resilience and the core of our being.
To my former self sitting on that wet bench, hopeless and wishing to die, I come forward as the person I needed. And I say to that little girl who cried herself to sleep every night, and every other person who is struggling to find their inner voice of strength and support:
“Things will get so much better. You might not believe me now, but you will see your life fill up with so many beautiful things that you can’t even imagine right now. No, I’m not kidding. You’re not a loser, you never were. You are just dealing with some real tough shit right now, but I’m always here, and I will always be here for you. We are going to have so many adventures. Very soon, I will help you achieve everything you wish you had right now but love, you deserve so much more. You are doing so great, so just keep doing your best, and keep an ear out for me!”
Positivelyours,
Astha
positivelyours 