This question gives me anxiety:

Tell me about yourself? 

No matter who is asking, this seems to be one of the hardest questions I have EVER tried to answer. Honestly, every time that I do answer, it’s a different response from the time prior…

I’ll try my best to explain who I am and why I’m here, on WordPress.

I was born in Croatia during the war in 1994. Born and raised in a refugee camp, my mother and I fled to the States when I was about two years old. I can sum up my life from birth to 10 years old fairly quickly. It was hard, it sucked, and my mom is a trooper. There’s a lot of detail there that I’ll save for another time.

It wasn’t until about the age of 10 that I started to notice that emotions such as sadness and frustration burdened me more often than any other emotions. I had been exposed to some poetry in school and began to write my own. The majority of my writing consisted of misspelled words and hatred towards a father who abandoned my mother and I. That’s some serious emotion to be dealing with at 10 years old.
My life consisted of constant struggle. Financially, things were never easy. I would babysit as often as I could from the age of 12 and began working my first real job at 14. I grew up fast, I had to. My mother suffered from Buerger’s disease and was unable to work shortly after arriving in the United States. We formed this tag-team relationship against all of the things life had to throw at us. I thrived in school and played sports. Though all seemed well, I never had an easy time making friends or fitting in. I found myself misunderstood by my peers and uninterested in the school bus conversations. I grew up without best friends, birthday parties, and sleepovers. All of this was OK because these were never really things that I wanted to have or wanted to be a part of.

Looking back, I now understand that I didn’t fit in because I was weird or something but because my priorities were so much different than those of any other 8th grader.

** This is where things start to get realistic and uneasy**

It wasn’t until the end of one summer day that I had realized there was something wrong with me.
I had spent the entire day at the beach watching girls sunbathe on the dock and boys poorly demonstrate cannonballs. I wasn’t like them, I had come alone with my mom and couldn’t just join them uninvited. This took a toll on my emotions. When I got home that night I laid on my bedroom floor and cried. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was crying over, I just knew that the entire day had made me sad. After a few minutes of sobbing, I began to think about things that didn’t make sense to my young mind. I began thinking about how I didn’t want to be here anymore.. and by here I didn’t mean in my room, or the apartment we were living in, but in this world. Surreal
I was only 12 years old when I had my first suicidal thoughts. I didn’t tell my mother.
Things only escalated from here.
I’m on WordPress today because I have suffered, I am suffering, and I am surviving anxiety and depression. Throughout this entire journey, I have learned more about myself than I could have ever imagined I would, I have learned more about life and other people throughout my entire struggle with mental health than I would have without it. I’m situationally depressed which means so many others are suffering the way that I am. The sad truth is I have always felt alone as if I had nowhere to turn to but to my doctor. I decided that my experience could potentially help someone else throughout their experience. My road to a healthier mental state is far from being complete but I have learned things that others may not have yet learned. My ultimate goal is to write a book about These Roaring Twenties, to give insight into what it’s really like to live with anxiety and depression, to educate, and to hopefully remove some of the stigmas that revolve around mental health.




2 thoughts on “This question gives me anxiety:

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