I turned 20 almost 3 months ago. My life has flipped around several times since. It seems as though I’ve been in a state of constant action, constant thinking, processing, and evolution for the last 9 years. About me: I am one of the most put together people my age you could ever meet- from as much as you can tell from the outside. I was a mess in high school and middle school. Struggled with mental illness, in and out of hospital, topped off with a 10 month treatment stay. Came back as COVID-19 erupted. I wasn’t going to have a senior year anyways, no one was getting one. At the beginning of college, I decided to flip it all around. Make up for the failures of high school. Run away from the residual problems, and the new problems from treatment. Oh yeah, and I was in a toxic relationship for nearly 6 years. That did a tune. I quickly became a workaholic last year, working 3 jobs as a full time student. This year I work a full time job, a part time, and am still a student full time. I drink so much coffee, it’s gonna give me a heart attack.
But because of the fucking housing shortage, I still can’t find an apartment. I’m working my ass off and can’t find a 1br. Like c’mon that’s so stupid. I even have great credit!
Anyhow, I broke up with my ex earlier this Fall. We were together since I was 14. It was isolating, so without him I might have been better off but nevertheless alone.
This is such a strange period of my life: working a full time job as the youngest employee there, busting my ass for straight A’s because nothing less is good enough. Holding myself together by a thread because I’ve worked too damn hard to fall apart now. Coping with the trauma I’ve never addressed. Mental illness relapsing. But at the same time excited for the future. But so uncertain of what it’ll be like when I get there. And I’m so alone. I literally have no friends. I work all the time so I’m very busy. Most of my classes were online this semester because of my work schedule. Hard to make friends at work too, most are 30+ years old. Lovely people, but not a social circle. Plus they see me as a baby, the rookie. They aren’t wrong in all fairness.
I feel like I’m too much all the time. I’m passionate about the things I care about. Outspoken. Big emotions, big ambition, complex, complicated. I might not be boring but I’m too damn much. My whole life I’ve been too much. Too loud. Too emotional. Too sensitive. Too invested.
No wonder I starve myself. Being told you’re too much for as long as you can remember makes an impact. No wonder I grapple with this toxic perfectionism. If I’m going to be too much, I better prove I’m worthy of the space. I have to prove that high school me is gone.
It sounds so sad and depressing or whatever, but the confusing part is that I’m better than I’ve been in years, like I haven’t been as healthy as this since elementary school. I have a stable career path, my resume is gonna kick ass once I get my degree. I’m so close to being financially independent. Making my parents proud. Even just met a guy who is successful and sweet and makes me feel secure. But I know I’ll need to give him the briefing soon. Because so much of who I am is invisible to the naked eye. I believe in full disclosure, not wasting people’s time.
This year I am twenty. The winds of change are blowing hard. This tipping point into adulthood (for me at least).
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