My mental illness forced me to move back home

I would rather drive hours every morning than feel the crippling anxiety

I’ve been made into a number. Doctors group me with other people whose brains aren’t working quite right. We’re not bleeding, there are no bruises, and we don’t need a band-aid. I’m one person that adds to an astounding number. According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness, about one in every five people suffer from some sort of mental illness. We’re the people you walk by on the street, your classmates, and your friends. Sometimes we hide it really well, other times, the dam breaks and all the water floods out.

My dam broke leaving me dry, numb, and confused. Having dealt with anxiety and depression for a majority of my teenage life, I thought my coping skills were stronger. I thought I was stronger.

Going into my sophomore year at UW-Madison, the city felt like a foreign world when it had previously felt like home. Friends felt like strangers. I felt completely and utterly alone in a city where I was literally surrounded by people. A girl that used to be totally in control was now spinning wildly into a place that made her irrational, impulsive, and hysterical.

I spent a night calling my sleeping boyfriend. I sent text messages that could have passed as novels to my best friend as if she would have the words I needed. Struggling to even catch a breath, I text my mom and my dad begging them to talk to me the minute they woke up. It must have sounded like I was dying and in my eyes, it wasn’t out of the question. After going to classes the next day with only an hour of sleep, I knew something drastic might need to be done.

Madison had become a home away from home. My new roommate was one of my best friends, and my job was literally the building next to my apartment. I was living the life, but I needed something to change.

My newly moved into apartment

I packed up my favorite big sweatshirts and athletic shoes and left my cute new apartment for a house I had just said goodbye to.

I’m a commuter. Again, I’m a number. My doctor pumped me with medicines. My parents and boyfriend dealt with too many tears. I am still swallowing the fact that everyone doesn’t have the perfect college experience we were all promised.

My loving boyfriend who has helped me through so much

I decided to live at home, because Madison had become a trigger. The constant noise and stimuli drove my anxiety up a wall. I live at home, because I can finally feel a sense of comfort my anxiety hasn’t allowed me to feel in Madison.

While I’ve become a person I’m not familiar with, the least I can do for myself is keep a doctor and house that is familiar to me.

I’m completely aware commuting might cause me to miss out on the things others have put on the top of their list of priorities. I’m not going to go out to the bars for Thirsty Thursday. Rather than spending nights with my friends in the library, I’m going to pull all nighters in my bedroom. I won’t have the ability to just roll out of bed and go to class, because there will be a thirty minute commute after I brush my teeth each morning.

I would give up all the drunken nights and football games to feel in control. I would rather drive hours every morning than feel the crippling anxiety.

Life is simpler when all you have to worry about are remembering the words to Varsity

Everyone is at university to get a degree. That’s still my only goal. That degree felt like the only light at the end of my narrow tunnel. I’m as determined and motivated as anyone staying on campus. I’m proud to be a Badger even if my time spent here isn’t considered “traditional.”

Never be ashamed of your college experience. It’s the only one you get. You’re also paying way too much to be ashamed of it.  So, maybe I am a number, but at least I’m still one of 40,000.

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