A Growth Story: Leaving Past Versions of Myself to Become Who I am Today PART ONE

Alright y'all, let's start out with this: this is not going to be a fluid story. For those who don't know, I don't edit my writing. I let it flow off of my fingers and onto the screen, I call I dear friend for moral support with sharing my words, and then I click publish while holding my breath. That's my method and since no one is paying me to do this (not that I want anyone to), I get to work how I please.

Growth is a hard word for me. Not so much in the sense that the word is hard to say or to understand, but in the sense that growth encompasses a lot for someone like me.

I guess we should back track a little and fill in those of you who may not have known me previously. Hi, I'm Chandler. Oh wait, y'all should already know that. What you may not know: I struggle with anxiety (of multiple forms) and depression during different seasons of my life. I struggle with my words and with opening up in person, so I write. I write in the notebooks beside my bed, I write in letters and cards to friends (some of which I never send), I write on this blog and on A Free Spirit from Jersey previously, I write on Instagram, and I ramble on Snapchat.

A lot of people want to know where my anxiety stems from and after years of therapy, little white pills, and A LOT of talking about my life, I still don't have the answer. I don't have a traumatic story to share. I don't have a life altering moment that "gives me permission" to feel this way. I don't have little to no support from family and friend. I don't have an answer to that question. And for years it made me feel like I had no business feeling this way. But through the help of some really great friends and family members who listen and mental health professionals, along with my own journey through college level psychology courses and questioning, I am comfortable saying that this is who I am and you can take it or leave it. I may not have all the answers, I'm not so sure they exist, but I do have a pretty good understanding of who I am.

Now mind you, I'm not oblivious to those who doubt me and my feelings. I don't live in some superficial world where no one hurts my feelings or makes me question every single part of my journey thus far. Not a chance. I question myself more than anyone will ever know. But one thing that I gave up questioning was if I was "allowed" to be comfortable sharing my story and my struggles while still identifying as a person with anxiety.

Y'all I'm gonna take a second to share something that I posted to Instagram (and at the time Facebook). Read the caption and then, let me tell you about the comments that led me there and the comments that got me past it.

Someone who knows a lot about me and my story, sent me a message that tore through my heart at the time. They told me that they didn't believe I really had anxiety because I was willing to talk about it. Y'all PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't ever tell someone that their reality isn't real just because you can't see it their way. It was very much like a sucker punch to the gut. And I stayed quiet because I thought, oh shit... what if they are right. Who am I to talk about mental health? Who I am to say that I have anxiety but then sit here and willing talk about it? Who am I...? The internal conversations were sickening. And now looking back at it my heart aches all over again. But this time, my heart aches because I am so much stronger. I know that this is okay, that I am allowed to talk about it. That someone HAS to talk about it.

After I posted that picture, I received some of the kindest words I have ever received regarding my struggles. But along with those comments, I received the ones that led me to posting it in the first place. I am beyond thankful for my friends and former students' parents who stepped up and cheered me on. I am beyond thankful for my best friend and number one protector at that time for having nothing but encouraging words for me and basically a shut up attitude towards anyone who didn't want to hear it. He is (and will always be) one of my favorite people. Because despite a whirlwind friendship with more ups and downs than a roller coaster ride, he ALWAYS has my back -- even when I least expect it.

But what I couldn't get past was the family members who continued to berate me (on social media of all places) for sharing my struggles and even thinking that I deserved to say I struggle in the first place.

Y'all, I need to say it because it is on my heart and on my mind and because maybe I've been holding onto it for too long. Being skinny doesn't solve your problems. I've been told that because I look a certain way, I have nothing to be anxious or depressed about. Having an apartment, or a house, and food on the table every night, doesn't mean you don't get to also have mental health struggles.
I have said it what feels like a million times before, but just because someone's life appears one way to you, on the outside, doesn't mean you get to decide what they are feeling. Anxiety and depression and bipolar disorder and every other mental health disorder ARE NOT something that is made up. They are chemical imbalances in your brain and they don't discriminate based on ANYTHING. So please for the love of all that is holy, stop telling people that they can't "be" depressed or anxious or anything else, just because it doesn't line up with your views on the world.

I'm off on a tangent and I apologize for that. But not really. Because I don't have anything to be sorry for. Growth is a hard word for me because of all that it encompasses and that involves taking a few steps backwards to share my story and how I got to where I am today.

I promise to share more about this and to actually talk about the different events in my life that got me here and what I am currently doing to remain in a place where growth is possible. But for now, I want to leave you with these words and allow you to sit with them.