Today, I realized something that hit me hard in the feels. In a good way, though.

I am part of many groups on social media but I am only really active in one, which is a small-knit group of people who are passionate about blogging (and one sadistic mentor, but it’s part of why we’re there) where we share our wins, our fails, we ask for advice, etc.

Today that mentor of ours asked us to use #imthankful and post what we are thankful about our blogging experience and business.

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And I am thankful! for many things, even.

It was easy to answer, in a way. Whenever we do these hashtag posts, I go in and start typing whatever comes to mind; makes it more real. So I typed it up and I read it.

I’m thankful

  • I’m thankful for the opportunity to do things that matter to me, and that means: helping people like me.
  • I’m thankful for everything I have to look forward to.
  • I’m thankful for the passion I found that I never thought I could find.
  • I always said that I’d never find a satisfying job, and I was not wrong. I had to make this job for myself!

So many reasons why these few sentences mean so much to me.

Depression has been following me since I was fifteen. I’m not used to looking forward to things.

When I write about the things that matter to me, do my research, and set-up the whole blog post, I’m enjoying what I’m doing. It’s not a chore, and it doesn’t feel draining or frustrating. When I think about things relating to this blog, be it brainstorming post ideas, experimental hacks to try out, or putting information together, I’m having fun.

I have been a working person for more than a decade, and that is new to me.

I hopped between jobs a few times before choosing a specific one with good benefits. It was a big company and I was ready to put myself on a shelf and do the same thing until retirement, forever being a number on a piece of paper. I didn’t choose a job I liked. In fact, I couldn’t choose a job I liked, because I had never found one. I had looked around, and I had looked into all the possible school programs and PhDs and other things… But nothing stuck. In fact, nothing even looked somewhat appealing.

So, I was ready to just do the bare minimum and endure my job, while doing some fun things outside of work.

At 21 years old.

I’m sure a lot can relate to the feeling of being entirely drained of life before it even began. I do believe a couple of people said that it was a personality trait for most millennials, so I guess I’m just stating the obvious, but I feel like doing “I’m dead inside” jokes is one thing, and feeling entirely empty is another.

So many pieces of contemporary art like to show the “mindless mass” vs the one person who doesn’t follow, but I wasn’t oblivious to the choices I made; I was “mindless” because I chose to be. Because I was tired, in pain, and depressed… and still am.

There comes a time where you give up.

Not trying to kill the mood(even though I certainly am) but I gave up before I even reached adulthood. I gave up in high school. to be exact. Unaware of my ADHD or ASD yet, I was diagnosed for depression, and I was already half-deaf, but whether or not I could hear the people around me, I would have been bullied and isolated anyway. I was dealing with some psychological bullshit. My insomnia was already at full capacity and never left. I already knew I had fibromyalgia, like my mom, even though my doctor didn’t believe me.

It’s easy to notice the signs when you literally grew up watching fibromyalgia happen to someone else, doc, but alright.

So, with all of these things weighing on me, I gave up early. I kept up the appearances for a time, but it couldn’t hold by itself, and I’m just not a good liar.

My self-esteem had been taken out back and shot like a lame horse way before it could do anything for me, and all the small issues of my childhood started coming up to the surface of my conscience. All the physical issues I had became worse, and new ones showed up to the party.

Believe me, at 21, I was done.

I am fluent in French and English and I can massacre Spanish, so I got a call centre kind of job.

Was that smart? No. But did it pay well? also no.

Did it murder what was left of my mental health? 100%. Eventually, I became less and less able to tolerate my job, but I’d bring stuff to do, like drawing or reading etc… But it was not enough, really.

You know that vacant look you see in any customer service employee? Yeah.

So here I am, blogging about mental health, researching mental health and making up theories about them… And I’m having a good time. It is a lot of work, and I’m still working things out, but I am having a good time. That is worth a LOT.

Mental health is fascinating to me, just as much as psychology. I love deep-diving into scientific and medical articles to find connections and information that will make it make sense! See, I was always a “giver.” I enjoy helping out, and I want to make a positive impact on people’s lives.

And I do believe, ladies, gentlemen and everything in between, that I have found my calling.

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One Comment

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