Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74554 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 373(@200wpm)___ 298(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
The external and internal pressure continued on through high school as college loomed.
As hard as I tried, I didn’t get into my parents’ alma mater. Or any of the hopeful schools they had for me. I didn’t even get into my personal top five.
Then, finally, I got an acceptance letter.
I sensed my parents’ frustration, but was determined to do well, to succeed, to make them proud, get a good job, the whole nine yards.
Pretty soon after I moved into my dorm and started classes, though, my anxiety began to spiral.
“My roommate hated me,” I told Kylo. “And she made it painfully clear.”
So I felt unwelcome at my “home,” and made the library where I spent most of my time. I figured that was maybe even a good thing; I would study more.
But then I had several professors who were really difficult to please. The lower they graded me, the harder I worked, the more I studied, the less I slept.
“The anxiety turned toward really debilitating panic attacks. I started missing classes. I fell behind. Things got… dark.”
Kylo reached across the table, placing his hand over mine and giving it a squeeze. Like he knew where this was going.
“I don’t really even have much memory of this part. But I guess I was down for so long that my roommate reached out to administrators about me not getting out of bed, bathing, eating, anything. I guess they called my parents.”
I remembered them showing up as this united front with stern faces and a plan.
Of course they had a plan.
They always had a plan.
I was going to take the year off, recalibrate, then try again.
“Going home just made it worse, though. It felt like a failure. It was a failure. I think two months passed. I didn’t even get up for Christmas. I just slept my whole life away.”
Eventually, they decided I needed to go away. Get professional help.
“I spent a few weeks at a treatment center, having therapy, getting on medications.”
“Were things better after?” Kylo asked.
“Not at first. Not for a while, actually. I had to do outpatient work with a team to keep adjusting things. That’s when my parents showed up with Ernest,” I told him, remembering him in all his long-eared, wrinkly glory. “They—or more specifically my shrink—thought having the responsibility of taking out, feeding, bathing, and playing with a dog might help. They also went with a Basset, figuring he would be happy to spend his time in bed with me when I didn’t feel like getting up.”
“Well, he certainly does like his rest,” Kylo agreed.
“Right? He was like that as a puppy, too. He’d have these short bursts of energy, playing tug on the bed, then he would pass out hard for hours. It sounds ridiculous, but he really did make a huge difference for me.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Remember that neighbor I mentioned?”
“The one who is married to your friend now?”
“Yeah. Siana. She struggled a lot with anxiety. And she had an English Setter that really helped her cope.”
“My parents didn’t like pets. Especially dogs. They found them dirty and demanding and… pointless, I guess is the right word. I had no idea how much love he would have to offer. He really was the biggest part of me finally being able to start functioning. And then… one day, I got a call.”
“From Claudia?” he asked, making my lips curve up that he’d remembered my grandma’s name.
“Yes. She was a different person from the grandmother I remembered when my grandpa had been alive. So much calmer, freer. Just talking to her felt like basking in the sun. And when she offered me a chance to start over, I just… jumped.”
My parents had been furious. With her—for offering—and me—for accepting. They thought I was too fragile, that I wouldn’t be able to handle the stress of having my own place, let alone running a business.
And while a part of me understood their concerns, and had my own worries, something told me I had to do it. I had to take the opportunity, try to prove to myself that I wasn’t broken, that I could find some joy in life again.
So I packed my things, grabbed Ernest, and headed to Florida.
“Did you feel better, or was the stress a lot at first?”
“Well, at first, I had a lot of help from my grandmother. Looking back, I think she wasn’t just showing me the ropes of the house and the business, but keeping a close eye on me. So, yeah, the stress was lower. Eventually, I got the hang of taking care of plants. I started making the house my home. I met and hired and befriended Traeger. Little by little, life got better. The depression kind of went away. Enough that I eventually weaned down on the meds, since I didn’t really need them like I used to.”