Time has flown by so fast that I’m having trouble keeping up. I’m already 27 years old, and I haven’t done anything I wanted to do in life yet.

I had so much anxiety and stress as a little kid and all the way through my teenage years that I was never able to finish school, which is something I’m really sad about today. I think I really hit my mental health rock bottom when I was in my early 20’s, maybe I was around 22, I don’t really remember. All I remember is how I wished for everything to be over. I just wanted to fall asleep and never wake up again. Those thoughts had been going on for years, but it was then I really decided to do something about it. I remember that I took a whole bunch of strong prescription pain pills that I bought on the streets, went to bed and hoped to never wake up again, and how desperately hopeless I felt when I woke up in that same bed almost two days later, still alive. It felt like I’d gotten hit by a truck and dragged around the entire country, but still, alive.

That next day I went to work as if nothing ever happened. I never spoke about it to a single soul. Until now I guess. I just moved on with my life, depressed and miserable like never before. After that I desperately decided to get some help, and they put me on two different antidepressants, which did absolutely nothing. I was on them for about 1.5 years if I remember correctly. And of course I never told the doctors or my therapist the whole truth about my life, I was always to ashamed. By that time I still felt that it was my fault that my mother never loved or wanted me and that my dad was drinking his way through life. The absolute shame in those feelings I can’t even describe.

This blog is actually the only place I’ve ever spoken about these things, and it feels OK to talk about it for the first time ever. Maybe it’ll do some good for me.

When I was 25 I decided that enough was enough. I wasn’t going to feel this way anymore, and I didn’t care what I had to do to get past it. That’s when my drinking really escalated, even if it was already bad as it was even before that point. But I got up, and I decided to work towards my future. It may sound terrible, but in some ways the drinking actually helped as much as it hurt. It helped me get through a lot of rough times and grief. And now I’m here, completely sober, from everything, fairly happy and are getting closer to my goals everyday. I might not reach them yet for a few years, but at least I’m on my way. And I will get there, I don’t care if it’s when I’m 30 or 55. I’ll reach them when I reach them, and it’s going to feel so damn good.