Okay, I’ve had my time to let reality soak in. Now I’m ready to share.
This past May I got my first apartment. It was beautiful and unique. I was ready to settle into my first home! I still had some anxiety, but I knew I could do it.
The girl who had agreed to be my roommate bailed on me after I signed the lease. Not a big deal, so I started looking for another one. I also looked for work since I knew my savings would only last me so long.
I met with a prospective roommate and landed myself a job at an adoption agency. Good for me.
That’s when things started going downhill. After a month of being alone, I got bored. I basically spent every day alone in my apartment online or out shopping by myself. There were friends who were willing to spend time with me – but I preferred to be alone.
There was one day that I went out with an old friend for dinner – fighting my anxiety every step of the way. I started feeling sick before I even walked out the front door. Halfway into dinner I asked him to drive me home because of how awful I felt.
I tried to get myself together, but things just kept falling apart.
I became depressed when trying to sort out my life. This usually leads to me not eating. I don’t mean skipping a meal; I mean I won’t want to eat for days on end. I’ll make myself food and stare at it for hours, hoping I’ll somehow get it down despite the nausea.
Before you think “eating disorder,” think again. I’m not trying to lose weight. In fact, I’m trying to gain weight. There are even times I force myself to eat when I’m nauseous because I know I have to. Think of the times you go to funerals when it’s hard to eat because of the grief. This is basically how I felt.
I didn’t worry too much about my lack of eating. I was concerned about it, but I hoped it would sort itself out. It didn’t. It worsened the anxiety. I threw up at home, threw up at work, etc.
I wasn’t comfortable being alone anymore. I wanted to be around family and regain my security. I wound up coming home to try to feel more comfortable and eat.
And so I’ve been at Mum’s since June. For months I’ve been stressing myself out, beating and blaming myself because I can’t live in my own apartment. I’ve quit my job, taken a break from school, and it’s still normal for me to feel sick from anxiety or whatever. The reason I’ve taken this long to share is because I feel like it’s my fault. Like society will blame me for being incapable of conquering my fears and staying in my own home.
I knew I had anxiety when I signed the lease, but I didn’t realize how much of an issue it would be. After I moved in I realized how much history I had to work through and how my anxiety probably stemmed from it.
So now I’ve decided to move home to be with Mum again. It’s not what I wanted or planned, and I’ve cried multiple times about it. I wanted to “be an adult” like all of my friends and find my independence. But moving home doesn’t mean I’m weak. In fact, it’s helping me to be stronger as I work through things. God still has a plan, so it’ll all work out.
Thanks for reading, and I’ll try to keep up with you guys more 🙂 God bless.