I stared at the emptiness of the space that was once filled with my material possessions. A closet once filled with numerous dresses and too many pairs of shoes to count was now empty. I tried to remember the events that had lead me up to the most recent life changing events.
Two years prior, I went through a bad break up with a career and a romantic relationship. Back in those days I cared more about what I had. Looking back, I had no idea who I was. I wanted so badly to keep up the appearances of the life society wanted me to lead. Writing this now, I had a house full of things but was completely empty inside.
There are so many things that I had assumed my life would before I hit thirty. The expectations of marriage and settling down seemed to be a reoccurring theme that surrounded my life. The Seattle vibe pushed for a career, money, and all the fancy things that you could charge on a credit card. After releasing my negativity and anger towards my break-ups, a reoccurring theme started.
Who am I?
Twenty-seven years living, and yet, I had no idea who I was. I spent my life being someone for everyone else. I molded my life to fit the needs of others. The fear of disappointing others ran rampant through my veins. I was a passenger in my own life.
I could not remember the last time I went out of my way to do something for myself. Life was about others, their needs, and appearances. Passions, dreams, desires did not exist for me independently. It was a zombie-like cycle of a 60 hour work week, dividing my time up for my boyfriend's son, and my boyfriend's passions. Saturdays were spent watching middle-aged men play soccer tournaments, meal planning, and drinking heavily while watching sports.
Hating myself.
Who am I?
It was when I discovered a correspondence my boyfriend was having with another female online that discussed his feelings on marriage, children, and how that pertained to our relationship, he ended things. He made sure to put the break-up on me. Making me feel incompetent and that I was mentally unstable. I begged him to give me another chance. Telling him we could work through our issues and that I did not want to live my life without him.
Who was I without him?
My life would be nothing without him (or so I thought). I cried, begged, and was pathetic. How was I desperate over a man who gave me no choices? He was almost ten years older than I was, he had been married, and had a child. When it came to our relationship, he made it clear that marriage would never be a priority and if I wanted kids, I was just out of luck. I barely could handle moving out. I felt as if I fail him and felt like I failed at life. My ex of course handle the break up in a mature fashion with partying and keeping me on a string to pull me in whenever he wanted me to come around.
Feeling insane, I started therapy.
What was wrong with me?
Why didn't he love me.
Constantly, I wondered why I was not good enough. I needed something to make me feel needed. I was diligent and committed to helping myself. My ex did eventually come to a therapy session with me, because he claimed he wanted to "work on things". After the session, my therapist let me know that he wasn't there for the right reasons. I started dealing with all my mommy, daddy, and every damn problem that shaped how I felt about myself.
Yet, I still had my self-destructive tendencies. I wanted to feel needed and important to someone. I knew that my ex was looking out for his needs, so it was only fair in my mind that I had someone. I did find someone to pass the time with, Kevin. Still to this day, I feel back for hurting him. But thankful my interaction with this person forced me to look in the mirror. Kevin was a pleaser, much like myself. He would mold himself to like and be who I wanted him to be.
On January 1 of that year, I found myself hiking. A few months prior I considered reaching out to an old co-worker who I knew climbed and hiked to see if I could tag along on some of her adventures. Sadly, she passed away in an avalanche the previous September. With too much time on my hands and the latest social media obsession, Instagram, I found myself constantly dreaming of mountains. I decided there was no real reason I couldn't be getting outside.
To me now, the hike up to Lena Lake in the Olympic National Forest was nothing compared to the miles I have clocked. But it was what awakened my soul. I was lost, buried deep inside the shell of a person who simply just existed.
It is a weird thing to spend your entire life not knowing who you are. Can you imagine? Going through twenty-seven years of life barely about to touch the surface of who you are. Hiding the depression and anxiety that you had been taught to be ashamed of? This is where things get heavy. I have spent twenty-seven years in denial of my depression. It took me that long to realize that you should not hate what you see in the mirror. The idea of taking your own life wasn't a normal one and that I needed to learn to love myself. Not mold myself to fit someone else's life.
