#Winning

(Buckle down, this one’s a doozy)

If someone had told me a few years ago that life would be playing out the way that it is now, I would have looked at them incredulously and scoffed (or reacted with a few choice curse words and a punch to the arm, depending on how many years back we’re going).  Truthfully, if someone had even told me just a year ago how different everything would be, I probably would have cried and told them to stop lying.

Back track all the way to junior high, probably the worst years of my life.  While there were some significant positives and great memories that stemmed from these years, they were also the period in which I experienced my first symptoms of depression and borderline.  My borderline personality disorder is undoubtedly a psychological issue within myself, but there were also many environmental triggers.

I remember the first day of the eighth grade, “Whoa, from behind I thought you were a guy.  You should start wearing make-up.” Scrutinizing look. “Ugh.  Never mind.  That would look so wrong.” At first I didn’t think anything of it, I liked my baggy clothes and cropped hair, but after a while and a few more similar comments in the coming weeks, I started taking it to heart.  I started believing that I did look like a boy, so out with the baggy clothing and in with the more girly styles and tighter options, eventually the application of eyeliner found its way into my morning routine and the use of shinier lip balms and glosses a regular addition to my regimen, and out grew my hair.  I convinced myself I was doing these things to make myself prettier, to feel better about myself – I didn’t.  In fact, with all of these perceived improvements, down went my self-esteem.

My self-esteem didn’t bottom out this year, however.  It lessened a bit, but I still had a strong group of friends on whom I could rely and who provided me with enough support to not take the snide comments too personally.  We would laugh and joke, talk about our favourite shows, give ourselves nicknames based on these shows, and we even created a band.  I still believed in my skills and abilities, and how I looked, and where I was going.  I still had enough of a self-esteem that I figured if my crush became interested in me, it would be a reasonable thing.

Eventually my interests turned to the tall, blue-eyed boy that I had known since we were 9.  My friends greeted this news with the usual chorus of laughter, teasing “What?!”s and “Why?!”s and the all too familiar threat of letting the secret go.  Despite keeping it to my few friends, the news of who I found myself attracted to reached my tormentor and all too soon the disparaging comments ensued: “You should just forget it; that would never happen,” and “Don’t bother, guys like him don’t go for girls like you.” And I believed her.  Within a few days I told all my friends that I swore on my life that I no longer liked that boy.  It was amusing because they all dubbed this turn-around as the “shortest crush ever!” when in reality, I hadn’t let it go.

Fast forward a few months to grade nine: the school year started out just fine but the depression started sinking in and with the depression the paranoia and perceived abandonment came too.  That bully remained a thorn in my side, digging in deeper every time I tried to fight back.  Outwardly, I was unfazed by it all, choosing to retaliate with equally vicious words and actions.  However once I was at home, I put away the harsh façade and allowed her words to sink in to my bones.  I can’t blame everything on what was going on at school, things at home were changing too.  There was pressure from my parents to step up my grades, to be more responsible, to start thinking about the future.  And that boy I fancied, but had to conceal? He started seeing someone.  All these factors contributed to my falling apart.  Fortunately I had a group of friends (fondly and purposefully named the “287”) who supported me through and through.  I never shared all of the exact details of my downward spiral, but they knew enough and they helped me to take that necessary stand against the school-based pain; it was a simple but powerful message: “You aren’t alone.”

Unfortunately, even with that message my self-esteem spiralled even further downward and it felt like the hole of depression wouldn’t ever bottom out.  It eventually got to the point where the most rambunctious and funniest teacher in the entire school started picking up on my downer personality.  I’ll never forget the day he called me out in class “And there’s Adrienne, she’s been coming to class for months now and won’t even crack a smile!” He then proceeded to bombard the class with an arsenal of his funniest jokes and had everybody cracking up, except me.  After class he pulled me aside and apologized for calling me out in front of a crowd, but if I ever needed anything that I could come to him with the shields down.  I never did take him up on that and maybe I should have, but I figured something would just have to give.

Something must have given because by May I felt myself returning to a state of normalcy.  I had events to look forward to, my friendships had evened out, I was set to go to a different high school than the designated one, and the bully appeared to want to make peace.  Perhaps it was the sheer excitement of knowing that there was a light at the end of the tunnel: junior high was finally ending and I could start a new chapter of my life.

Truthfully, high school wasn’t nearly as traumatic.  In fact, my high school years were probably the best time of my life.  It was as dramatic as one of those reality t.v. shows and we would always joke we could cut a deal with MTV to document our everyday lives because every week seemed to have new love triangles with the associated drama, different cat fights, “frenemies” in  their constant relationship turbulence.

I could spend ages talking about the past four years of my life since completing my undergraduate degree: the traumatic break-up, losing my job, the downward spiral of depression, being officially diagnosed as having borderline personality disorder … but, if you’ve followed my blog for any length of time, you’ll know about those years. 

The past two years, however, has been wonderful.  Remember that tall, blue-eyed boy from my junior high years? We reconnected, over Instagram of all things, and while it began as something of a distraction for both of us it exploded into something a lot bigger than we anticipated.  While I can confidently say I’m with the love of my life, this relationship hasn’t been without its own trials and tribulations.  Between my mental health issues, his temper, and demons from both of our pasts, the beginning of our relationship was difficult.  We both questioned if it was worth staying together, but we did.  Something was pulling us to work through our issues, together, and that’s the necessity isn’t it? Just because you’re pissed off at the other person for something that they’ve said or done, isn’t an excuse to leave them hanging in the limbo that is the silent treatment. 

I was criticized by a few for how I was conducting myself in this relationship, seemingly bending over backwards at every snag.  It wasn’t just me working and jumping through hoops though.  It still isn’t.  It’s an equal partnership.  We both have our faults, but we have our strengths too, and its our strengths that bring us together and that we bring out of each other.  It’s something I didn’t have in that last relationship that left me so irrevocably broken.  This relationship pushes me to be better as a whole.  It hasn’t been an easy road, but it’s been worth it.

My life hasn’t always been rainbows and butterflies – whose has? My life still isn’t ideal, I know I still have a long way to fully conquer all the issues of self-esteem, depression, and topsy-turvy moods, but life is a lot better than I could have imagined it, even just a year ago.  That bully is living off cheap tricks and an even bigger mountain of lies and deceptions.  I have my undergraduate degree and I’m on my way to a graduate degree, I have a job that I am passionate about, I bought my car, I bought a house, I’m in a healthy relationship, and I’m living life mostly how I want to.

This is winning.