State of Grace

I am attempting to join the voices of my young, empowered generation and confessing to you all something very important to me. To a lot of you, this is not going to be news. To a few of you, I'm going to sound like I've always feared I would: you will read this, and only see an attention-seeking young female, with next-to nothing wrong in her life who wants everyone to feel sorry for her. 'The privileged victim'. I'm not a victim though, and what's coming up next will show you why (I hope).

Here goes, an honest, unable-to-be-taken-back update on my brain - including all of its anxious depths.

To begin with, I did not previously use the word anxious lightly. It was there on purpose, and even as I type it's burning a bold, blaring mark into the top right corner of my peripheral vision. It's done. I've said it, and I'm not taking it back. My name is Amelia, and not long ago I graduated from the best selective school in NSW. Whilst I don't regret that experience in any way, I am writing here now the most honest truths I have (and probably will ever know): I am a functioning, thriving, soul-searching, horribly cliched, often misguided, yet ferociously dedicated University student. I am all of this, and I am also anxious.

I don't remember exactly when it started, and with many of these things - I don't think anyone ever does. I do remember, however, suddenly being so aware of everyone around me. It's like those days you don't really want to look at anyone because you've got a huge pimple on your face. Ahhh, those days. I got those a lot, and still do. But you know what I've recently learnt pretty cool about those days? Metaphorically, of course. You ever notice on those days, that if someone else happens to have the same ridiculously-embarrassing pimple, you sometimes find this wonderful moment (in the bathroom, or whatever) when you acknowledge each other, and it's really kind of this powerful moment of togetherness? Your eyes giggle and go "same?";"yeah, same"

Well. that's how I feel about mental illness. I'm hoping to not get heaps of backlash regarding my lighthearted likening of mental health to pimples (lol), but bear with me here people. I don't feel like you should feel sorry for me. Sure, some days, it's shitty - duh, it's a mental illness for a reason (you would have seen quite a few of my shitty days on this blog if you've read it over the last few years, actually, haha) - but I am honestly pretty astonished by the doors it's opened up for me. 

Despite the doors that have been shut, and trust me - regardless of any level of gratitude I hold, there is always going to exist doors that have been closed because of my current predicament (and this particular post is not a place to dwell on said doors) - every day being anxious,  I learn more about being human than I could have ever imagined.

Again, I'm going to have to honestly say that every day I learn because every day I am forced to learn. I'm forced to keep reminding myself that today is today and not tomorrow. Every hour I notice one new great thing about now. Not the next one. Now. Every day takes a new lesson. But lately, every lesson has slowly (but steadily) been learnt. 

In the same way, I've learnt a lot more about friendship. Sure, you definitely don't have to have a mental illness to know true friendship. But for what it's worth, having a mental illness sure makes true friendship known to you. I've had people help me without knowing they even were, and I hold every one of those moments very closely to me. Yet, there are those few people over the last few years that I've let in completely, and those of whom without I would not just be confessing right now as anxious-Amelia, I'd be baring a completely lost 2012 era depressive-anxious-Amelia, and I may not have ever gained enough courage to voice these words today.

I know depressed people. I've known suicidal people. I've known pretty intense hurt and stress. But I do know that these things pass, and so does the fear. 

The world is so very beautiful, and nothing will ever stop it from being so - even your mind.

Stop. Take a breath. Talk to someone.

It gets better. Trust me.