XO Diva D

There are days when I sit back and think about how absolutely insane life really is, not in a dramatic way, but in a genuine “how is any of this real?” kind of way. We’re born into a world with no guidebook, no instructions, and no idea what’s waiting for us around the next corner.

We spend our entire lives trying to figure things out while at the same time trying to live them, which has always seemed like a strange system to me. I’ve always joked that if I had the opportunity to go back before I was born and sit down with God to read the terms and conditions of life, I would’ve done it in a heartbeat.

Some people might laugh at that and say it takes away from the adventure, but I don’t think it’s that simple. I think there are moments in life when all of us wish we had a little more information… a little warning, a little heads up about what’s coming next. Maybe that’s because uncertainty has always been difficult for me!

One of the biggest struggles throughout my life has been stability. For years, I was ashamed to admit that. I looked around and saw people who seemed to know exactly where they were headed. They had plans, they had confidence, and they knew what they wanted. Meanwhile, I often felt like I was just trying to keep my head above water and make it through another day without completely falling apart.

The truth is that there was a period in my life when things became so overwhelming that I realized I couldn’t keep pretending I was okay. That’s not easy to admit, especially when you grow up feeling like you’re supposed to be strong all the time. We live in a world that celebrates people for pushing through everything, but rarely talks about what happens when you’ve been pushing for so long that there’s nothing left in the tank.

Six years ago, I made one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever made and checked myself into a mental health treatment facility. Even now, writing those words feels strange. I spent seven months there; seven months away from my normal life. Seven months trying to understand my own mind. Seven months sitting in therapy sessions, having difficult conversations, unpacking years of emotions, fears, insecurities, and pain that I’d spent a very long time trying to avoid.

People hear “seven months” and usually react with shock because it sounds like a long time. The funny thing is that when you’re living it, time behaves differently. Some days felt endless and some days I thought I’d never leave. Some days I wondered if I’d ever feel like myself again. Looking back now, I think that’s what scared me the most.

It wasn’t being there for seven months, it wasn’t the therapy sessions or the difficult conversations… It was the fear that maybe this was who I was always going to be. I was terrified that I’d always struggle. Terrified that I’d never feel normal again. Terrified that everybody else would continue moving forward with their lives while I stayed stuck in the same place.

Then somehow those seven months became six years, and now I find myself looking back wondering where all that time went. It’s strange because it feels like yesterday and twenty years ago at the exact same time. When I think about that chapter of my life now, I don’t think about it with embarrassment anymore.

For a long time, I did. I viewed it as evidence that I had failed somehow; that everyone else had received the instruction manual for life, and I was the only one struggling to understand the directions. It took me years to realize that wasn’t true.

The biggest lesson I learned during that time is that human beings aren’t machines… we’re not cars. When a car breaks down, you replace the damaged part and move on. If something isn’t working correctly, there’s usually a clear solution, but human beings don’t work that way.

We carry things with us: heartbreak, grief, trauma, disappointment, rejection, and loss. We carry words that were spoken to us years ago. We carry moments that changed us forever. We carry things people apologized for and things they never did. Some of those things heal, some of them fade, and some of them stay with us for the rest of our lives. Just because nobody can see those things doesn’t mean they aren’t there.

I think that’s why conversations about mental health are still so difficult. We can see a broken arm, stitches, or even a scar, but we can’t always see what somebody is carrying internally. We don’t see the thoughts keeping them awake at night. We don’t see the anxiety they battle before walking into a room, and we definitely don’t see the effort it took for them to simply get out of bed that morning.

I think about that a lot these days. There are people walking around every single day carrying things we’d never know about. The friend who says they’re okay when they aren’t. The coworker who spends their entire shift smiling and helping everyone else before going home and crying alone. The family member who’s always checking in on everybody else while nobody stops to check in on them. Sometimes the strongest people you know are carrying the heaviest things.

Instead, we make assumptions. We tell people they’re being “dramatic.” We tell them they’re “looking for attention.” We tell them “everyone struggles and they should just deal with it.” While I do think there are people who misuse mental health conversations for the wrong reasons, I think there are far more people suffering quietly than most of us realize.

I’ve met people who were falling apart internally while still showing up for work every day with a smile on their face. I’ve met people carrying pain that would crush most of us, yet they continue showing up for their families and friends. I’ve met people who felt completely hopeless but somehow found enough strength to keep going one more day… that strength amazes me.

At the same time, I know not everyone has the ability to push through in the same way, and that’s okay too. Life isn’t a competition to see who can suffer the most while asking for the least amount of help. The older I get, the more I realize that healing isn’t a destination. It’s not a finish line that you cross one day and suddenly everything is fixed. Healing is messy; it’s uncomfortable and frustrating. Some days you feel like you’ve made incredible progress, and other days it feels like you’re right back where you started.

I’ve experienced both. There are days when I feel like I’m winning; days when I’m excited about the future and proud of how far I’ve come. Then there are days when things feel heavier, days when old feelings creep back in… days when I’m reminded that growth isn’t always a straight line.

But those days don’t scare me anymore. What scares me more is the idea of people believing they’re alone in those feelings, because they’re not. If there’s one thing life has taught me, it’s that everything changes. The moments you think will last forever don’t.

The pain you think you’ll never survive eventually becomes something you learn to carry. The chapters that nearly break you often become the stories that shape you.

If I’m being honest, there are still days when I struggle. There are still days when I question myself. There are still days when I wonder if I’m doing enough, accomplishing enough, or becoming the person I hoped I’d be. The difference is that now I know those feelings don’t last forever.

Six years ago, there were moments when I genuinely couldn’t picture the life I’m living today. I couldn’t picture the people I’d meet, the memories I’d make, the opportunities I’d have, or the moments that would remind me why I’m grateful to still be here. When you’re in the middle of your darkest chapter, it’s almost impossible to imagine that brighter days are waiting for you somewhere down the road.

That’s why I wanted to write this; not because I have all the answers… trust me, I definitely don’t, LOL. I know what it feels like to believe things will never get better, and I know what it feels like to be wrong. I still wish life came with terms and conditions, and I still wish somebody could hand us all a guidebook and explain exactly how everything is supposed to work, but maybe there’s something beautiful about not knowing.

Maybe the uncertainty that terrifies us is also what makes life worth living. And maybe, just maybe, the fact that you’re still here after everything you’ve been through is proof that you’re stronger than you think! Maybe the nights you cried yourself to sleep, the heartbreaks you didn’t think you’d survive, the losses that changed you, and the battles you’ve fought in silence didn’t break you after all.

Maybe they showed you just how much you’re capable of carrying. Maybe they showed you how resilient you really are. Maybe they showed you that even when life knocks you down, you still find a way to get back up. And if you’re reading this while going through one of the hardest chapters of your life, I hope you keep going. Resources and people are here to help you…

Your story isn’t over yet ;