You know something? To this day, I've written six stories on this site, five of them being "life updates," more or less. In each story, I try to end it on a positive note. No matter what turmoil I've just written about, I always end it with a redemption in the end, something to inspire my readers.
Of course, my stories are honest. That's why I write them: the hope of reaching someone, making someone feel understood, known or heard. I want the honesty in my stories to shine through, I want it to be evident that what I'm saying is the truth. I want to be open about everything. Like I wrote in Share Your Rollercoaster, I want you to experience both the highs and the lows with me. Well, in that spirit, I'm going to be brutally honest with you this time.
This story doesn't have a happy ending.
Spoiler alert, I guess. The journey I'm about to take you on is not an uplifting one. It may not strike you as inspiring, it may not make you feel pride or joy. I'm sorry, but I promised you honesty, and if I'm being honest… I can't give you those things today.
Let's talk about social media for a second, that's how I want to open this story up. Social media, as we all well know… is not real. It's not real! We mindlessly scroll away, seeing friends and family living their best lives in photos so edited they're stripped of all realism. We scroll as if their posts are an accurate reflection of every minute of their life.
We see pictures of friends on the beach and immediately wish we had their body.
We see videos of families playing games and immediately wish we had fun like that.
We see mirror selfies of fitness geeks and immediately wish we could force ourselves to work out more.
We see posts of friends having incredible experiences and immediately wish we could afford to do the same.
We see moments of joy, of pride, of excitement, of laughs, of love. These are moments we're certainly familiar with, we all have such highs. But we forget one thing: people don't share their entire life on social media, just the highlights. Instagram's the worst of it, and I may be more guilty than anyone. You scroll through my squares and here's what you'll see: photos I'm proud of, photos I want to show off, photos that I think will make you admire me, photos that compel you to to give me that coveted "like."
I'm breaking that pattern today. I'm not going to pretend everything is perfect. I'm not going to portray my life to be pure, incessant bliss. I'm not going to do that. The rest of my squares may have you convinced that I'm constantly full of glee and contentment, but not this one. This square is going to be honest, as painful as it may be. Because sometimes honesty is painful.
I'm not doing well.
I'm not. I'm giving it to you straight: I'm struggling. I'm actually struggling, like, a lot. I talk about my freshman year of college a lot — the year I was tested in every which way, the year I nearly failed out of school, the year I felt no purpose. It's been two and a half years since that nightmare ended (read An Overwhelming Upheaval if you don't know what I'm talking about). Two and a half years… and this is the first time in my life that I feel like I'm rivaling that feeling of depression.
It's hard. Some days, you feel like you simply can't move. You cancel plans for no reason other than to be alone, you miss out on your commitments, you let people down in work and in school, you lose motivation to work out, you begin to stress eat, you lug yourself to the tasks you can force yourself to, fully knowing you're going to do the bare minimum and hope for the best. Some days.
I hate feeling lethargic. I hate it. I want to put myself out there, I want to be seen as lively and energetic. I want my presence to light up a room. I want to be that guy! I want to be the guy everybody is happy to see, the guy that makes people feel good about themselves. I strive to be that person. No matter who you are, I strive to make you feel joyful and welcome. I strive for effervescence.
But this square isn't effervescent. This is the honesty square, and if I'm being honest, I feel like I've been consistently failing at effervescence for weeks. I don't think I've been lighting up any rooms lately, I don't think I've done well at making people feel good about themselves, and I don't think I've been that guy. Sometimes I can't be that guy, no matter how much I want to be.
So… what's going on? What's wrong? Come on Preston, certainly there has to be something on your mind that's ruining your mood lately.
That's just it: I don't know. There's not. Simply put, I'm just not doing well. After going months free of them, I've had anxiety attacks left and right recently. They're awful. I'm not going to go into too much detail, but I lose complete control over my body and my mind. They last from anywhere between one minute to twenty, sometimes even more. I've also been eating more. I know many people who struggle with depression eat too little, I do the exact opposite. If you've known me for a while, it's no secret! I've gained a little bit of weight in the last few years! Trust me, I don't like acknowledging that fact, but hey, this is the honesty square. On top of the anxiety and eating issues, I've also skipped out on things I promised I wouldn't skip out on. Telling people I'll be somewhere, only to fail to keep the commitment. If you're reading this and you're one of those people, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Because trust me… I hate it too.
Like I said, there's no one thing I can pinpoint as the root of my stress. There's no seed that was planted to grow this massive weed in my garden. I can complain all day about the things that are ailing me, but what good does that do? …On second thought, give me like, a few bullet points to air it out. Let's say four. Then I'll stop.
Bullet number one: This is, hands-down, the most time-consuming and difficult semester I've ever had as a student. Perhaps that's the biggest weight on my shoulders. I like my major, I like my classes and I like my professors. But fall 2020, you've gotten the best of me. You're pretty damn hard to get through. These classes are interesting, but about as rigorous as I've dealt with. There's also one massive factor I haven't mentioned that isn't helping: the coronavirus. As you can imagine, it's not easy being a senior in college during an unprecedented pandemic.
Bullet number two: I'm ready to graduate. I'm ready to move on from this stage. Oklahoma State, I love you to death, and I'm going to miss the hell out of you, I really am. But I'm ready to see what else there is to see. I'm taking in this last year as best I can, but it's hard not to think about the next chapter in this book, the next rollercoaster in this park. I'm ready for it. God, I'm so ready for it.
Bullet number three: I'm terrified to graduate. "But Preston, you just said—" Let me cut you off right there. If you've ever closed one massive chapter in your life and opened another, you know where I'm at. I'm ready, but I'm not. I'm excited, but I'm terrified. It's a double-edged sword, and it balances pretty evenly. The wanderlust to move on and the comfort to stay at home take turns in weight. I don't know what's next. I'm excited to find out, but I'm terrified to find out.
Bullet number four: I've got some daunting challenges ahead of me. Again, I don't want to list them out in detail, but there are some seriously scary things waiting for me that are coming. Every day, I work to build the courage to face them. It's anxiety-inducing, for sure… knowing things are coming but not being able to just tackle them and get them out of the way. Honestly? Most of the time I just resort to keeping my mind off of them.
Alright, I'm done. Got it off my chest. Complaining session adjourned.
Listen, Internet, I'm not writing this so you pity me. I'm not. I'm not writing this to bring you down, I'm not writing it so that you can be my therapist (I've got one, I promise). I'm writing this for a few reasons. Number one, I'm selfish and putting my thoughts into words helps me grapple them. Oops.
Number two, I want you to know… not everyone is okay. Especially now.
Don't let social media fool you. We're not all thriving, we're not all living our best life, and we're not all waking up with a smile on our face. It's okay to not be okay. Let me repeat that: it's okay to not be okay. In many ways, it's a feat to be okay right now! The world is so much! And it's relentless! 2020 has been an absolute train wreck in a lot of ways for a lot of people. If you're one of them, you're not alone. Things haven't been easy, it doesn't take a genius to see that. Take some time for yourself, take a moment to breathe, take a day to treat yourself. Do what makes you happy. You deserve it.
It's not easy, doing this. It's not easy waking up the past few weeks and struggling to feel a sense of motivation. It's not easy feeling anxiety creep back into my life after thinking I'd escaped it. It's not easy to live with the fact that I've reached a point that rivals what I thought would be my absolute lowest.
It's certainly not easy to put it all into words and post it for the world to see.
But I'm going to let you in on a secret, and I hope you don't hate me for it. I told you this wouldn't have a happy ending. I told you I can't give you a feeling of inspiration today. And I know, I told you this was the honesty square. And I'm starting to think I shouldn't have, because here's the secret:
I lied.
This story does have a happy ending. I can give you the slightest feeling of inspiration, because this story does have a happy ending. No, it's not easy doing all of this. None of this is easy, but there's a reason I'm doing it. There's a reason I can wake up despite my faltering motivation, a reason I can push through the anxiety when it returns, a reason why I can proudly live with the fact that I'm in a low point. There's a reason that I'm putting it all into words for the world to see.
It's because… it gets better. I'm doing terrible right now, I really am. But this does not last. This is temporary. It will pass. I believe that. I'm not here to tell you "everything turns out okay in the end if you just believe in yourself!" I'm not here to downplay your sorrows and sugarcoat your future. No, if you're feeling awful right now, that's okay. If you're depressed right now, that's normal and completely justified.
But what I am here to tell you is your story doesn't end this way. Just like this story you're reading right now, it has a happy ending. That's the thing about this story that's unlike all the other ones on this site: it doesn't end when you stop reading. Every other story I've written has a finale, an ending point to make, a glimpse of hope at the end.
This one isn't over when you stop reading. These words don't signify the end of my story, they're merely a glance at one of the lowest periods within the story. That's all. What you're reading right now, you're reading through a window, but you can't see the entire house inside. You can't see the entrance or the exit, you just see one room. It's a gloomy room, I know, but it's just one room. These words may not have a happy ending, but I know the story does.
So when's it over? When's this happy ending you promised, Preston?
That's just it: I don't know. I don't know when this story ends, but I know it's not over yet. I'll never be one to promise you a permanent bliss that always overflows your cup. If I told you that you'll reach a point where you don't remember what it's like to be sad, I'd have lied to you twice. Life is a series of rollercoasters, and you will always have the drops, some worse than others. All I know is the drops don't last.
So, no, I'm not doing well. And that feeling may persist. It may be another week, another month, another two or three months until I'm doing better. It could be even longer. I don't have the answer. But I don't need to. I'll keep on, I'll let life come at me as much as it needs to. It may tear me down, it may kill my motivation, it may worry me until I lose control. But it's okay to not be okay. You know why?
This story's not over.
This story's not over.
This story's not over.