Liz

Everybody has a story. This is a collection about the people, places and events that have shaped the lives of women across the country. From moments of empowerment to the times when their bodies stop belonging to them, these are the true stories of faceless women who make up a generation.

People tell me I’m bubbly and outgoing, but I don’t really feel that way.

My dad died in a car accident when I was nine, and that took a lot out of my family. I started getting nervous any time my mom left the house. I was so worried something would happen to her. My brother didn’t handle it well either. He fought with me mom all the time. Two years in a row, on Christmas day, he told us that he wanted to kill himself. When he left for college, I had panic attacks every day because I was so scared for my family. I was so nervous I couldn’t eat. My doctor told me it was in my head, that my physical symptoms were just anxiety.

I’ve been in counseling on and off since, but the medication never completely helped. It just always seemed like everything was falling apart around me. The summer before my freshman year of college, my cousin committed suicide, and it terrified me because there were so many similarities between him and my brother. Sophomore year, my aunt, a longtime alcoholic, died. Her son struggled with a heroin addiction, so I lost another cousin when he overdosed. My uncle died. My grandma died. My childhood dog died. My best friend wound up in a coma after a suicide attempt. All in one year. I felt numb and guilty at the same time.

I stopped talking to people. I couldn’t leave my room. I was depressed, and I didn’t know how to talk to anyone about it. My anxiety was worse than ever, but anxiety has become such a normalized word that people didn’t take me seriously. I was on and off medication, and sometimes I felt better, but this isn’t the type of thing that is fixed overnight.

People knew me as the girl who was always busy. I was involved in everything — cheer leading, sorority, philanthropy boards — because I couldn’t leave myself time to be caught up in my own thoughts. I couldn’t keep the friendships I needed to help me get through this. People were nice to me when we saw each other on campus or at meetings, but in my personal life I didn’t feel like I had anyone. I threw myself a birthday party, but no one showed up.

Then I hit a breaking point. I went to a school event and found myself feeling more alone than ever. I went home sobbing. I took two Xanax pills, went to sleep, woke up high, went to a sorority event high, took two more, went to cheer leading practice, and when I showed up a sorority meeting later that night, the doors were closed, locking me out. I hadn’t eaten for three days, and I couldn’t stop shaking. I went home and finished the Xanax bottle. I wasn’t even sure what I was doing — honestly, I just wanted to stop crying. I called a friend to take me to the hospital, and I ended up staying there for a week.

Our society doesn’t create an environment that fosters healthy people. We don’t have the right attitude to understand mental health– the fact that I have to be embarrassed to talk about how I feel shows that. When so many people tell their stories, they tell them after the fact, but I’m right in the middle of it. I don’t want to die. I’m excited to graduate and get do work that helps brighten other people’s corners of the world. I’m trying to figure out how to brighten my own first, and I’m sure as hell not giving up.

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