I’ve caught the social media bug, the one where you think everyone else’s life is infinitely better than yours. Even during this time of self-isolation. Engagements. Family fun. Creativity and creation. Wedding postponements that only highlight the beautiful love that people are experiencing. Time with loved ones. Pregnancies and babies. Quarantine shopping binges. Weekend getaways to beautiful, isolated places.

My typical problem is the opposite of feeling bad for myself. My default position, when I start to bum out or get straight depressed, is that so many people have it worse. So I invalidate my struggles.

But that hasn’t gotten me far in life, with people or within myself. So when one way doesn’t work, I try a new one.

I’m seriously struggling these days. I’m frustrated and defeated. Between career, love, family, and what feels like life purpose, no aspect of my life feels full. And I want to air these struggles in case 1) it helps someone else and 2) it helps me.

Truly, it’s been a five year battle. It was as if everything changed the day I graduated from college, in May 2015.

Naturally, once I left State College, I felt friendships start to morph and change to no one’s fault; once you leave the bubble of your college town and real life begins, things will be different. There were growing pains on my end, and they weighed really heavily on me. Again, to no one’s fault, I felt disconnected, (unintentionally) excluded, and isolated. Five years later, I can say that this was all for the best. I am blessed to have some of the greatest women in my life. But at the time, it was a pretty significant weight on my shoulders.

I started working in a corporate supply chain position in June of 2015, almost two months after I graduated college. I was hired into an awesome rotational program which would provide me with thorough training and expose me to so many different aspects of the business. The people were incredible, and I was having a blast. However, an executive at the company started to take a friendly interest in me. He seemed like a cool uncle, and he was pretty close with all the young employees in this program. I was young, impressionable, and naive, so when I started to get uncomfortable with the relationship, I blamed myself, as every person on the receiving end of sexual harassment does. I’m sure you can see where this is going. A year later, in the summer of 2016, I hit my breaking point and had a full realization of the situation. I reported my experiences, and the person was no longer employed by the company. I’m trying to be a little vague here; I signed a lot of confidentiality contracts during on-boarding and, considering I never expected this situation, I have no idea how much or little I’m allowed to discuss, if at all. I will say, in my eyes, the company handled it incredibly well; they fully supported me and acted so professionally. But this still happened to me. And the single factor that drove me to report it was that I would not let it happen to other women, especially young women new to the corporate world like I was. It made me feel crazy – was this all in my head? It wasn’t. But the self-doubt and humiliation you feel after experiencing this leaves a lasting mark. Again, I know in my heart this experience happened for the best and made me who I am today. I cannot believe I had the bravery to report it, and this was years before the #MeToo movement. I am so incredibly proud of myself, and I don’t want to keep this story to myself out of fear anymore.

A year goes by quickly and I’m faced with another difficult situation. In 2017, I was hired into a permanent position after completing the rotational program after close to two years. Nine months had gone by in this role, and I got a sparkling mid-year (closer to three-quarter-year) review. Then one day, my boss’ demeanor significantly changed. This turned into a nine-month tooth-and-nail battle for me to keep my job and perform up to her standards. I lost this battle, miserably. There are many nuances to this experience and my subjective perspective on it, but what matters is this: my self-confidence taaaaaanked. I would never have guessed how deeply this could affect me. It was devastating. While moving on from a job that is not the right fit is always a good thing, the toll it took on my self-esteem and mental health took much longer to recover from.

Thankfully, I knew how that battle would end, and I had the foresight to job hunt in the city where my then-boyfriend lived. We had been dating mid-distance for three years at that point. What better time to seize the opportunity and start over in a new city, and together? Knowing I had him this entire time and knowing we would soon be living together really got me through.

About the time I would have been fired from my old job, in the summer of 2018, I received an offer for a new job, and I started this new job only a weekend after leaving my old job. I turned in my computer and badge on a Thursday, loaded up a U-Haul on Friday, and had to moved to Baltimore to start my new job that Monday. Things are looking up, right?

Days before I moved to Baltimore, my parent relapsed into alcoholism. This parent had been sober for almost seven years at the time. It was a shock – to that parent and to the rest of the family. Relapse is part of recovery, I know now. But I sure did not at the time. It’s been two years and this parent is still struggling to stay sober. I’m not identifying which parent to respect their privacy. Historically, this is something I wouldn’t talk about at all. But my history has not gotten me where I want to be, so I believe that sharing is the healthiest thing for me right now. I will dive into this more deeply in another post, but I do want to share about my experience. I have so much compassion for individuals and families touched by addiction. It’s one of the driving factors in my career change to counseling. Addiction does not discriminate. In photos, my family looks pretty picture-perfect. The love and closeness seen in photos is real and authentic, but we do struggle with the disease of alcoholism. It’s challenging to talk about, because while you want to respect your family’s privacy, not talking about it only perpetuates the stigma. After years of reflection, I believe it’s my duty to gently and carefully discuss my and my family’s experience in order to contribute to ending the stigma and sharing hope and love with other people touched by addiction or any other similar situation.

But today, the physical and emotional health of my family is not where I want it to be, and all I can do is love and pray. While I think my parent can become sober and start long-term recovery any second now (if they haven’t already), the recovery we have to accomplish as a family will realistically not happen as soon. But family is everything, and that is one fight I will never give up.

Finally, I’ve reached the subject hardest to write about. My recent break-up. Again, I’m toeing the line between privacy and honesty. While I’m not sure what I should and shouldn’t share, I know the message I want to convey is this: things will only go up from here, and it’s okay if it’s really, really hard to believe that.

This is all difficult to share in the time of this COVID pandemic. I don’t want to be insensitive when so many people are facing a health and financial crisis, but it felt like the right time to share. I’m torn between thinking “maybe this post will help others feel less alone!” and “spare me, these troubles are nothing compared to real tragedy.” I have no idea why today was the right day to put this out into the internet ether, but I felt pushed to, so I did. All I can say is that if you’re struggling, I’m with you, I’m sending you love, and while my brain is questioning how we’ll ever make it through, there is a feeling that is loud enough to convince me that we will.

All my love,

State