For someone who hates math with a passion, I live most of my life through an algorithm. My mom mentioned a couple of times that the reasons my older brothers could not get larger scholarships were grades. Now, if a score looks like it is taking my grade to a B, I have a mental breakdown. Older friends and adults told me not to get into a serious relationship in high school. They said it would only lead to heartbreak. As a junior in high school, I've been on all of five dates, none of which were more than friends. I am working towards a degree, in nursing, that I am incredibly passionate about. Although I won't lie that the job stability was not a huge deciding factor. These three examples show the regrets of everyone around me that I have absorbed since I was a little girl, squashing dreams so that I could instead achieve success. As I have gone to therapy to discuss this mental block, I have slowly started to look for things that are off the diamond-studded path of achievement. I am learning to be ok that my Pathophysiology grade could be a B, even after months of late nights shivering and stressing at the kitchen table. I have found other hobbies that allow me to take a step back from the world of anatomy and disease and patients so that I can return renewed with energy. I have hope that as the vise-like grip on my future vision relaxes, there will be so many wonderful things about myself to discover.

Give me a shovel and I will dig a chasm. A friend once told me, “You want me to shut up because you are seeking validation. You want someone to confirm your worst fears about yourself, so you can stay in the pit you’ve fallen into. You ignore the many ropes and branches to help you out, but if a shove is thrown in you snatch it up fast.” That day I was angry with what he said. Of course I wanted that shovel! The shovels being thrown in were ways to hide self-harm, an eating disorder, and suicidal ideation. I didn’t care that the hole I was digging would eventually collapse. I would have reveled in it. Today, I ache for the the girl I was in my darkest moments. My only goal was to further my pain so that I would feel worthy of diagnosis. I wanted to see the outward reflection of how I was feeling on the inside. I would sneak away during meals or add to my collection of scars. My parasuicide would align with this analogy as all the support beams in my chasm coming down and creating a prison at the center of the earth. Taking a branch or rope from those that loved me meant recognizing that I needed help and my actions were detrimental to my health. It also meant going back into a world that had hurt me. It took a saturation of ropes for me to finally pick one to hold onto. In the end, my friend asked me to grab his hand instead of the shovels causing blisters. I am so glad I did. Today my goals are much different. I have to choose every day to stay out of the rabbit hole I dug. I have to learn to accept that hiding from the world also means never experiencing anything worthwhile. Through my mental health struggles, I have been more able to see struggles in others. Recognizing the “blisters” their mental health has created comes more naturally. I can be the hand ready to pull them up.