Today I finished my capstone paper. I also submitted my final assignments for my theatre class. I have an exam tomorrow, and one next Monday, along with my final performance of my monologue from Gruesome Playground Injuries for my theatre final, and then, I am done.
So it’s just exams. Exams that I feel very good about. I feel finished. I know I’m not quite there yet, but that ridiculously long list of things I needed to get done is finally complete.
When I submitted my final assignment for my theatre class, the last actual homework assignment I needed to do, it finally hit me. I’m actually graduating.
I understand graduating college is expected for a lot of people, and to some it’s not even that big of a deal. That’s how I felt about graduating high school. It wasn’t anything to be proud of.
That’s not how I feel right now, I feel like I truly accomplished something.
Spring semester of my sophomore year of college I attempted suicide. I fought all of my doctors and family members to stay and finish that semester because somehow, I didn’t want to admit that I had a problem, despite the fact that I had just tried to kill myself. The following fall, I took a medical leave of absence because not only was I not getting better, I was getting worse. Mental illness is a bitch, and Borderline Personality Disorder is the most tormenting, psychotic rollercoaster ride I have ever experienced. I spiraled out of control for a solid two years before I finally got fed up and started the long climb up from rock bottom. Even when I started recovering, I wasn’t sure I would ever go back to school. I wasn’t sure I could do it, I didn’t think I was mentally strong enough to get through it.
Well, here I am.
I had to transfer schools to get a fresh start, but I’m really glad I did.
I’ve met some amazing people here. I’ve had incredible professors. I’ve learned so much.
So, thank you, Mizzou. For giving me a place to start over, and welcoming me with open arms.
Thank you to those who knew me before, during, and after all of the above mentioned shitshow, and still choose to call me a friend. I love you more than you’ll ever know.
Thank you to those who have assured me over and over that my past does not define my present or my future.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
I am so grateful to be alive.
If you told me five years ago that not only would I be graduating college, but that I would also truly be happy, I would have said you were just as crazy as me.
But here I am. My life isn’t perfect, and I still struggle. Anxiety is a bitch. But I fought my own mind for multiple years and eventually relearned how to think and process social situations. I don’t identify with BPD because I don’t meet the criteria anymore. That’s incredible to me. I honestly thought I would feel psychotic forever.
I’m still kind of in tears over this. I feel so triumphant. It took me awhile to get here, but god damn, I did it, and I’m a better, stronger person for it.
So fuck you, mental illness. You can’t stop this girl.