If 2012 was anything, it was the certainly the most dynamic year of my life (so far, I suppose). A year of grand change seemed to be the theme - the most obvious one being the transition out of high school and into the once-mystical world of college. Though the most apparent, it wasn't the only thing that changed; friends, perspectives, philosophies, and even dreams were not impervious to the altering ways of twenty-twelve.
As the year drew to a close, I began to see people look back on their year and speak of their respective experiences, and it caused me to take a moment and do the same. I decided to start by looking at where I was when I entered the year, both literally and figuratively. When I did this, I was at first surprised, or I guess it would be better to say that I was shocked that I had so easily put it out of my mind. When the clock struck midnight on January 1st, 2012 I was sitting in my dad's living room in Hephzibah, Georgia sipping on some sour-tasting champagne and watching my parents and the neighbors play a game of spades. That part isn't really that out of the ordinary. The part that caught me off guard was where I was, emotionally. Up to this point, that winter was probably the lowest part of my life.
I was in the midst of a depression - one that I tried to be in denial about for far too long. I had all but given up on school, finding every possible excuse not to go. I despised high school to the core, mostly because I was frustrated that I had fucked around when it mattered, and going to school every day after that was a constant reminder that it was too late to fix anything (I often leave out the fact that I had the lowest GPA when I mention how I went to Gov School for Science and Technology). On top of that, I had burnt a lot of bridges, had all but run out of people that I could confidently call my friends, and those that I did I constantly feared that I was much more invested in the friendship than they were. Things started to get bad. I couldn't sleep, I would stay up until 3 or 4 in the morning each night and wake up at 6 every morning, only to have the same trouble the following night. This left me constantly fatigued, and irritable, which didn't help with the whole friends thing. The lowest point was when I shut everything out. I went through each day, doing the bare minimum in terms with interaction. I remember my best friend later saying that he didn't see my crack a smile for weeks. I was in autopilot, just trying to get through the end of the day so that I could do nothing but lie down.
But despite all this, I was in denial. I couldn't be depressed, because I had no fucking reason to be. Nothing traumatic had happened; I didn't live a troubled life. I had a loving family and struggled very little growing up. I felt that if I were to admit that I was depressed that I would be insulting everyone who was "really" depressed, who had reasons to be. No, I was just some whiny kid. The thing that finally made me cave was a movie called, "It's Kind of a Funny Story" (great movie/book, not gonna take the time to explain the plot here). After seeing that, I realized that I just needed to man the fuck up and admit I needed help. And manning the fuck up I had to do, because telling my parents was probably one of the hardest things I had to do. I remember shaking in Cracker Barrel, screaming at myself in my head for fifteen minutes to just out and say it. My mom is a very loving mom, so of course she was concerned, and helped me contact the right people. After that, I was set up with a therapist for weekly sessions and a psychiatrist for a diagnosis, which turned out to be anxiety, depression, and a mild form of bi-polar disorder.
After this, the last few months of high school were relatively easier. I wasn't cured or anything, I didn't have some magical catharsis in therapy akin to Good Will Hunting. No, I still had bad days, shitty moods, and terrible thoughts. The difference was I was able to handle everything better. I could take a deep breath, and my muscles could relax after a few moments of tenseness. Well, most of the time I could. There were still a few days where I would not be able to handle the events of the day. These days, I would lie to the school and say I had a doctors appointment and go park in the library lot for a few hours and just put my headphones on and drown everything out (this was easy to do because of the now semi-frequent nature of me leaving for school for actual appointments - no one questioned it).
At last though, the day came where I got to walk across the stage and leave high school behind, forever. This is absolutely the happiest day that I can remember having. I remember the tears welling up as we moved the tassels to make it official, thinking of how Lexington would be a fresh start for me to prove myself. And I am quite sure that this day served as a catalyst into recovering from my once dreadful state. In fact, save for a few odd weeks in july, I cannot remember being upset at all during the summer. I had done it, and so it was time to celebrate by being lazy, hanging with friends, and living without deadlines.
And then fall came, and it was time to move five hundred miles west to what I would call home for the next four years and begin the journey heralded as the greatest time of your life that is college. At first, I was homesick and even considered transferring to a school back home, as I was envious of my high school friends who were still able to see each other. However, after I went to Bowling Green, Ohio with my water polo team, I decided that Kentucky was the right fit for me. That weekend was probably the best of the semester, as it was the first time that I felt I had a group of friends at UK with which I belonged. Learning from my mistakes from high school, I put solid effort into my studies, and this turned into one of the most validating moments of my life at the end of my semester when I was able to tout a GPA I was proud of. I had always believed in high school that I could have performed better had I tried better, and my first semester in college has shown me that I am capable of succeeding and given me the drive to keep pushing into the next term. I've also learned to realize that everyone has their own story, their own thoughts hidden deep within their heads, and that I should not be so quick to make assumptions. That I should do my best to find the other person's perspective, should I find myself in conflict.
Tonight, I was asked if 2012 was a good year or a bad year. Even though it has been done with for over 48 hours, I found myself unsure. Now, after much thought, I can say that this year was a good year, in terms of the direction I believe it has moved my life. I am eternally grateful for my loving parents, family, and friends - without whom I would not have been able to get out of this rut. Even as I write this, my eyes begin to well up at the thought of how lucky I was to be afforded these people around me, and the opportunities that lie before me. Here's to 2013, and after all...
yolo!
P.S. - If you actually made it to the bottom of this, thanks for reading and sorry if it seems like a bunch of ramblings.
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