First, when my dad passed away when I was 15. Then, moving out of my abusive mother’s house and into my grandparents’ home my senior year of high school. Didn’t realize how much time I spent in “survival mode” until I lived somewhere predictable, quiet, and safe, and could finally relax.

Finally lived in a place where I could focus on studying. I could also finally take care of myself and sought treatment for anxiety/depression/disordered eating. I guess that was another turning point, because lots of you probably know how depression is—feels inescapable. I’m 23 and I’ll have my master’s degree in December. It sucks knowing that my grandpa won’t be around to see it (passed away last month—cancer’s a bitch), but it’ll be nice to never write a paper again haha. That was word vomit, sorry. Guess it’s good to let it out sometimes, right? Thanks for the opportunity to get that off my chest.