the "T" word.

Those few weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas are no fun for any college student. Take a normal stressed-out college student freaking out about finals and multiply it by 10. That was me for two weeks.

It was 3 AM on a Sunday night at school and I was convinced the world was ending.

This is such a scary, intrusive, and intense statement to make and come to terms with considering I am one of the luckiest people in the world. I go to an amazing college, I'm going to be studying in Italy, and I have some really amazing people in my life so why does it feel like the world is ending? I had just gotten off the phone with Amy after trying to talk through some extremely minor things completely out of my control that I couldn’t get off my mind for some reason. I was lying in bed trying to go to sleep needing to be awake for finals in four hours. Before I knew it I was sitting on my bathroom floor throwing up and I genuinely thought the world was ending even though I had no reason to believe this was true.

There have been times in my life when it has FELT like the world is ending but ultimately have known everything will be okay. This feeling of the world ending turned into a belief. I genuinely BELIEVED the world was ending and there was nothing I could ever do to change this belief. Everyone was asleep so I got in my car to take myself to the hospital across the street because I was too scared to be alone. I eventually talked myself back into reality and got so frustrated with myself. I was convinced that once I could finally get myself to sleep, I would wake up the next morning and shake off this headspace. Each day went by for two weeks and I would wake up with that same pit in my stomach and ache in my chest.

Amy knows me better than anyone in this world solely because what one lacks, the other makes up for as stated in her memoir (future New York Times best seller) 🫶.  Me and Amy met on the first day of kindergarten when we sat next to each other on the bus. For one whole year, we sat next to each other every day, and would never say a single word to one another. Knowing what I know about our friendship now, this holds up. Even back then we knew when just wanted some simple peace and quiet on the ride back from a long day coloring and learning to read.

Amy was always my favorite (and only) friend growing up because of this. At my 7th birthday party with 15 girls, the only person I wanted to hang out with was Amy. I went to the swings in my backyard to find Amy and she wasn’t there. I went inside screaming at my mom asking “WHERE DID AMY GO."  She said, “Amy’s dad forgot his phone at home so they had to leave.” Our school’s “Bingo Bash” was months prior This was the BIGGEST and FUNNEST event of the entire year. Amy remained my only friend. I was so excited to get ice cream with her after crying over a boy winning the American Girl doll raffle basket. Amy was gone before the first

game of bingo even finished.

I never understood why she would disappear at all these events everyone found so much fun. I was never angry at her, I was just a confused and curious 7-year-old wondering why my best friend was always disappearing. Lo and behold come to find out years later she had anxiety - a word not in my naive 7-year-old brain's vocabulary yet.

Amy has also always known I’m someone who needs the plain and honest truth no matter how harsh it is. When I was telling Amy about how frustrating it was to not know where these intense negative feelings and thoughts were coming from or how to get rid of them she says…

“Emily I think you need to go to therapy.”

And there it was. The dreaded “T” word that I can't seem to escape.

There have been a couple of periods in my life where I went to therapy (each against my will). The first time I saw a therapist was in kindergarten. I have absolutely no recollection of this but my family has told me so I trust their word. My teacher was concerned about “my behavior and lack of socialization with other classmates.” About 95% of people in my life thought I was mute until eighth-grade graduation. I knew I was quiet but didn’t think people thought I was actually mute until Amy told me someone we will name Bob for the sake of the story didn’t know I wasn’t mute until my family gave him a ride home after school in eighth grade and I spoke to my mom. Me and Bob had gone to school together since preschool.

My kindergarten therapy was short-lived and they said I would learn to grow out of this “silent phase.” Fast forward 15 years later and now I don’t know when to shut up so I guess they got something right.

Then, against my will, I went back to therapy in eighth grade for what we will call for the sake of keeping this story short and sweet ~ traumatic family events~. I went to every form of therapy during this stage - family therapy, individual counseling, and group therapy with other kids (which I only agreed to because there were dogs).

Session after session after session I begged my mom to let me “quit.” Every session was me just sitting there painting a blank canvas (which still hang in my bedroom) because I refused to speak anything to this therapist and it was the only way she could get any bit of information out of me. Eventually, I got to high school and my mom let me stop going except now I was going to group therapy sessions but this time with people from my school. This was the most painstaking experience of my life but it meant getting to skip school so I put up with it.

Despite all these negative experiences with therapy, I was running out of choices as these persisting thoughts and feelings did not disappear after moving back home. I always thought it was amazing that therapy worked for so many people but I was convinced because of my past experiences it wasn’t for me. I had this preconceived notion that I was paying someone to tell me what I wanted to hear. Come to find out after only one session this is far from the truth and this girl told all the things I did NOT want to hear but ultimately what I needed to.

You don’t need to hit a point of hysteria to need therapy. I told myself there was nothing “wrong” with me therefore I didn’t need therapy. I’ve got by just fine without it for 6 years. My mentality has always been just make it through high school and things will get better. Just make it through freshman year and it will get better. Make it through the semester and you’ll be fine. I realized I don’t want to just “get by” anymore. I don’t want to simply exist, I want to live. I want ownership over my thoughts and my life again. There is never going to be a point of genuine satisfaction with your life if you’re just getting by. You need to learn to find the light through the growth and change. This is so much easier said than done.

Growth is painful. Change is painful. Admitting you need help is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck in a negative headspace knowing there is a better version of yourself waiting on the other side.

My goal in writing blogs is not for pity. I want to break this stigma that you need to undergo something traumatic or you need to hit a breaking point to need help. You deserve all the peace, love, and happiness this world has to offer and it’s OKAY if you need help to find the good within yourself.