Returning to the Scene

So I’m here.

First day of my fourth year at university.

Yikes.

You’ll understand if I’m a little nervous. My first year at university was a nightmare. And by that I mean that it was one of those nightmares that you don’t really remember very well, you just wake up from it with a vague sense that something very, very bad happened, and you don’t want to go back.

No, I wasn’t black-out drunk through my entire first year of university (though I do have a few friends who were). Instead, I succumbed to the murky depths of depression.

My second year was a little better. Still not fun, but I have a few good stories to tell from it. Like the time that I walked into the living-area of my suite, only to find my suite-mate’s boyfriend sitting naked on the couch. The point is, I smiled a couple of times, and I remember a bit of that year, which is more than I can say for the first one.

The third year was plagued by restlessness. I started to become more aware of the fact that depression had turned my life into an uneventful abyss, and I wanted to do more with my life. It took me a while to actually get moving, but the point is, something began that year.

And now I’m here.

My fourth year.

The one that’s supposed to change everything.

The one where I finally look depression in its stupid face and tell it “you can’t have me anymore.”

And I’m scared.

But at the end of the day, I know that I have to do it. I have to move forward, have to be strong, have to stop crying and wishing that things are different because they aren’t different. I am not different. I am a twenty-one year old girl with anxiety who is overcoming depression, and I have to know that. I have to accept that. Because once I do, then my life can truly begin.

So let’s do this.

Deep breath, in and out.

Steady gaze, no looking down.

“You can’t have me anymore.”

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