Five Years From The Bottom

Today is the 5 year anniversary of me hitting what I consider to have been my rock bottom in my struggles with mental illness. I don't often talk openly or publicly about what happened, but it is important to me to take a step back tonight and mark for myself and for everyone else how far I've come. Because I'm never going back to the place I was in then.

I now know that what afflicted me on the morning of October 31st, 2008 was the beginning of my battles with GERD - Gastroesophageal Reflux Disease. At the time though, I thought the nausea and vomiting I experienced was simply a stomach bug. But even once the sickness passed, I felt shaky. I was overcome by fear. I had my own apartment, but I didn't trust myself to take care of myself in it. I was afraid of the big sliding glass doors to the balcony of my fifth floor apartment. What if I somehow accidentally threw myself off it? I was afraid of the sharp knives in my knife set. A co-worker had cut her hand badly on a knife in her dishwasher a few weeks earlier. What if that happened to me? I didn't like knives.

Please don't interpret the above as me being suicidal. I wasn't and have never been. But I've learned that a big part of my anxiety disorder is these irrational fears that especially pop up in times of stress. I was stressed out. I'd broken up with my boyfriend of over a year less than a week before and to say that it had blindsided me would be an understatement. I was living on my own in a suburb of Chicago, far from the city I considered my home and the support system I'd built for myself there. To make matters worse, I hated my job. And perhaps it would be fair to say it hated me? I didn't fit in, didn't feel engaged, and couldn't figure out how to excel. It was a frustrating position for a Harvard grad like me to be in - I felt adrift and alone in a world in which I didn't know any of the rules.

But back to that morning.

I felt so paralyzed by fear that I wasn't comfortable driving. What if I threw up or passed out at the wheel? So I walked to a neighbor's apartment. I then spent hours pacing around his apartment, alternately talking and crying on the phone to my therapist. I had no faith in myself. I didn't trust myself at all. I didn't believe in myself. I didn't know what to do or how to fix it.

I'm pretty sure the friend had no idea what was going on with me. I felt well enough to go out with some friends to celebrate Halloween that night - I wanted to be around people - and a rumor started that I hadn't been sick that day at all. I even got in a lot of trouble with work over it. But I was sick. Really sick. Just in a way no one could see.

That was my rock bottom in my struggle with Generalized Anxiety Disorder, Panic, and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. That was my rock bottom with life, and the break up, and my total lack of confidence.

In the years since, I've slowly and painstakingly crawled my way back. It hasn't happened alone. I am and will be eternally grateful to the friends and family who stood by me as I rediscovered myself and built my confidence back. It wasn't a linear path - there have been set backs, relapses, and steps backward. But I persevered.

I never thought that, five years later, I would be the Founder and President of two successful companies. I didn't think I'd have an office or employees or be my own boss. I thought I needed structure - that I couldn't be trusted to make decisions or take care of money or people.

I also never thought that, five years later, I would be living with, loving and being loved by, a different amazing guy who has stood by me through many of the ups and downs. His belief in me has helped me believe in myself.

And I was surprised then, and even sometimes still, at the incredible friends who were there, even when I wasn't at my best. They helped write lists, they took me to drinks, and to watch sports, and they listened. And we talked and ate and shopped. I am a better person for all of these people.

I suppose I have succeeded then, where I thought I had failed. Where I thought I would fail. And I see how far I've come and how I've turned into a strong independent woman.

I want people to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. The key is to keep persevering and not give up. Failure was never an option for me - I wanted my life. I wanted to live the life that I was capable of. I didn't want regrets. When failure is not an option, you find a way to succeed.

Thank you again and a million times over to those who were there for me along the way. I couldn't have done it alone.

And to those struggling - there will be bad days and good days, but you are not, and never will be, alone.