My story
My name is Meagan, and I’m twenty-three years old. I have a run-of-the-mill family: sisters, parents, friends and so on. Like most kids, middle school and high school were tough for me. They are typically a hard time for most adolescents, and I was not an exception. But my problems, though they started out normal, quickly changed to anything but.
Happiness is relative, and, relative to other people, I thought I was miserable. I was in a lot of pain sometimes, and my story is not the only of its kind. Though, I wanted to tell it in my own way, how I best expressed myself back then.
I’ve since grown up a lot, and I’m in a much better place now. This is a look back on how things used to be.
I believe one can gain a world of understanding by looking back, not to dwell, but to shed light from a new lens on the things you thought you knew. What you were sure you understood is not always as you remember it, because even the past can change you through the illumination of time and new experiences.
But no matter how time has changed my perceptions or faded my memories, one thing remains strikingly the same: I didn’t do it for attention. I never wanted that.
Unfortunately, and inevitably, though attention did follow. Things spiraled out of control, and instead of shrinking out of everyone's sight, more focus was placed on what I was trying to hide. For a while, everything in my life was a confusing mess.
There were always ways to make it go away temporarily. But any quick fix was just as quick to subside. Everything was a fleeting suppression of the feelings eating away at my insides. So much was threatening to burst out. A whirlwind I didn’t understand was pulling me downward. My life became one little problem after another, sagging my shoulders from the weight. With time every problem faded, but first I had to get through the chaos.
I quickly realized nothing helped like the listening ear of a friend or the blank slate of a page. As an ear wasn’t always adequate, I learned an empty notebook made me feel better when my friends couldn’t. It was therapeutic to let it all out and receive zero judgment. Paper couldn’t talk back or look down on me for what I'd said and done.
I felt less vulnerable putting pen to paper than putting words through my lips.
I am who I am today because of the experiences I’ve had, the troubles I’ve struggled through, the mistakes I’ve made, and the lessons I’ve learned. But, as things often do, it got worse before it got better. Yet, through every mistake, I’ve stayed true to myself.
This is the story of working through my problems, defending against them, and choosing to cope instead of giving up.