This is long. Grab popcorn, kleenex, and a snuggie.

i.

This piece was not intended to end up read on the Huffington post quarter life crises section (even though…I tried…DENIED). This piece was inspired by a brush, clip, and blowdryer. I know it might sound insane, but I was blow-drying my hair, and while parting it with a clip, I dropped a brush that I stared at for 15 minutes only because I was equating it to the events that have transpired in my life. And just like that I was stuck thinking and thinking, until I mentally yelled at myself, “write your thoughts the fuck down on paper.” This is not a fairy tale buzz feed article either. I’m not going to tell you you are fucking intelligent because you are late to something or the next Elon Musk because your room is messy. I’m here to tell you life is hard, and there are many routes to take, but above all QUESTION THE FUCK OUT OF EVERYTHING.

ii.

About a year ago, I graduated top of my class from a private university. No, I’m neither a spoiled brat that Mommy and Daddy fed with a silver spoon nor did I fuck the Dean (she was a woman…I tried…DENIED). I was there on scholarship. I was your typical English and Communications major. Expecting to start law school in the Fall, like the rest of the hopeless cracked out yuppies of the 21st century. Bright-eyed and eager, I was ready to conquer the world straight out of college, and move the fuck out of my parent’s house (finally). Though I was top of my class, my LSAT scores were fucking terrible. A monkey could have scored higher than me. But, in America there are Hispanic quotas to fill and I guess I filled mine at the law school that chose me. I got into a top 20 law school in the Northeast (nameless). Doctor–Mom and Engineer–Dad were ecstatic. They threw a fucking party (insert confetti). I was also excited and delusional, I mean, this was strong Kool-Aid and a big fucking deal. When you are Hispanic, and you get accepted into a good school it’s like the whole world finds out. Cousins you never had in the middle of nowhere start calling you.

iii.

Moving forward, I began to strategize the big move. I’m a southern girl and I needed to make sure this transition would be smooth. I began to contact everyone I knew in the city that knew someone that got into my law school, so I wouldn’t feel– “alone.” By the time I moved in August, I knew a total of 15 people that were my “friend” from home, patiently waiting for me to arrive at the law school. I met a guy (nameless) that was Jane Austen perfect. Tall, smart, handsome, and a future attorney. He seemed like a good catch, and we complimented each other quite nicely. The first week before law school was a fairy tale. It was college all over again, but with bigger kids and more money. Everyone in this school was somehow a fucking millionaire. Things were seemingly great, for now. When law school started I had everything in the bag. Classes were not difficult to understand. I had all the outlines of 2Ls, and the E&Es. I knew the game and played it well. All my courses were easy to process. But, don’t get me wrong–Socratic method still sucked. I didn’t get nailed to the wall by a professor. But I did live in fear at the edge of my seat every time my Contracts professor called on me. He was particular, and brutally honest. The first day of class he said, “if you know you do not belong here, get out as soon as possible.” That comment though, at the time, flew over my head.

vi.

All was fine, until midterms came. I prepared three weeks in advance. I realized that I had an anxiety problem. But, this wasn’t anything that Adderall couldn’t quickly fix and make one feel like an oracle. My computer crashed during the week of midterms. It was cold, the apple store took forever, and I hated everything. My boyfriend would make fun of the series of strange events that occured in my life. And I must admit, I am that person strange things do happen too. But, I wasn’t that person that their computer crashed during midterms. No, that person flicked me off when I asked, “are you ok?” I was the person to go home after the Adderall high came down and proceeded to nap. Back to the drawing board folks. At this point in time, I am pretty much still drawing clouds in the sun and flowers in the grass. All was well in law school hell. I loved my friends, and boyfriend, and even my Contracts professor. But, I loved something a little too much–Adderall. I had never had taken this before during undergrad but in law school we became inseparable. Come November, I had lost 15 pounds. I was increasingly paranoid and jittery. But no fear, I had Xanax to help me forget I had a problem. You see, law school embraces anything that makes you calm down, even if it kills you. Did I mention that during this time, two suicides had occurred at my campus. But don’t worry, the school was not “responsible” for these deaths and as the kids say, “better for the curve.” Because in law school, its all about the curve.

v.

The curve killed me in December. No, it fucking ate, chewed, and spit me into a psychiatrical institution where everything was stuck in slow motion. I freaked the fuck out about exams in December. I could not take them. Taking an exam was the equivalent of getting eaten by sharks. I had generalized anxiety disorder. I couldn’t leave the room, talk to my boyfriend, or be around people. Everyone in my mind, wanted to kill me. I lost control. Thankfully, I did not jump out the window because it had bars. But, believe me the thought crossed my mind multiple times. I had no support from anyone. The pile of friends I had slowly turned into dust. Noone knocked on my door to see if I was breathing. My boyfriend felt we needed a break, because I was acting “weird.” My mother thought that I was possessed by evil spirits, which when you come to think of it, I did live quite close to the house the Exorcist was filmed. And my father thought this was God testing me in the same fashion he tested everyone in the Second Testament. Not to mention, I’m from the south and this was my first time experiencing winter, in utter depression. I had to excuse myself from the exams, until further notice. If anyone asked, I was in the hospital on a deathbed. And even though this was a lie, it felt like such.

vi.

I couldn’t tough it out. There was something greater than me holding me down. It was as if someone invaded my mind and took out my brain. I didn’t feel I was in the same body. Especially at this point, when I lost 25 pounds. I was extremely thin and breaking out all over the place. My mother flew in to take care of me and nurse me to health. If you were to ask me how this happened in the first place, I would tell you, “it’s been one year and a half and I still don’t know what the hell happened.” I have gone through worse things in my life and it was my dream for me to be in law school. I had no idea what was wrong, aside from the fact I had anxiety over exams. I had everything someone could want that was my age–prestige school, hot boyfriend, nice apartment in the city. On paper, I was a fucking beautiful fantastical novel. In real life, I was drugged to the point I fell unconscious. I only knew what I know now. I was scared and could not handle the pressure. My father was infuriated that I was “scared” of taking exams, and my mother thought I just needed “drugs” to fix the problem. But no one could pin point the root of all this madness. No one questioned anything, and neither did I for a long time.

vii.

I managed to take one exam. And was scheduled to take the rest the following year, after I was nursed back to sanity. But going back home was worse. It reminded me of everything I left behind that I hated. I was repulsed by the Hispanic culture in my city. Everything bothered me. I was a mess. My boyfriend apologized for his words of aggravation when I came back home, as he lived in the same city as me. He tried to be there, but his interests lied in other things. He just cared about getting fucked and hanging out with his friends. While I was dying inside, he never once cared to look me in the eyes and say, “We are in this together.” As the winter break came to a close, my condition worsened. What were people going to think of me if I returned back. Would I be labeled weak? loser? freak? This seems stupid, but this is what my mind was telling me and there was no off button. I began to see a therapist. After all, I figured this would alleviate some pain. Unfortunately, all it did was add a zero to debt collections. Nothing changed or got better. I was empty inside trying to scream for help, waiting for life to pass me by, while everyone around me seemed to be having the time of their life returning back to law school for spring semester. Everyone but me.

viii.

I think you know how this ends. I ultimately dropped out, despite my parent’s wishes for me to stay. I broke up with my boyfriend. And yes, I moved back with my parents. This resulted in being the hardest point of my early adult years. An existentialist crisis at its finest. Fret not, hopeful millennial, I applied to a law school near home to make mom and dad happy, and also to retain some feelings of hope. And no, it was not a top 20 school, but it was a law school. This didn’t please my evangelical father because it wasn’t a top school. And this didn’t please my mother because the school practically took anyone that applied. Even though I had this state school acceptance in my back pocket and managed to escape first year final exams, I was not satisfied. This is when the questioning began. I must have spoken to 80 or more people before taking the next step. The unhappier I grew, the more people I would question about my decisions. I spoke to attorneys, relatives, doctors, therapists, teachers, etc. It drove me insane at first, filtering out all the unnecessary bullshit people tell you. And believe me when you are depressed, you listen to everything. But one fine day, I stopped listening to all these fucking quacks, and listened to myself.

viiii.

It is hard to listen to yourself when everyone around you is fucking insane. Despite my f bombs all over this paper, I would consider myself now a very calm person (I try). I only became this way in order to understand myself better. I am still hyperactive and intense, but with a hint of stillness. I began to listen to myself when I entered the enchanted world of meditation and yoga. I know this is trending right now, but I had no idea it was because I was disconnected from all forms of social media until I started my Masters program. Master’s program? Yes, I dropped out of the other law school too and embarked on a new field that meshes better with my creative personality and soul. It was challenging to leave something I worked so hard for behind but it was also the most liberating experience. I told everyone around me FUCK YOU–I don’t want to be an attorney they are all fucking miserable alcoholics, with the exception of some, and venture on to a new path. And I started a new path, a more creative one too. I began drawing and writing again, which I have not done since I was 17. Meditation helped me calm my anxiety and lay off the drugs. I even did a retreat in China with monks, but that’s saved for another piece. But, this would never have been possible had I not fucking questioned everything.

v.

So here it is. Question everything around you. I’m not saying you will be happier in doing so or saddened by the answers you receive. But, you deserve it to yourself and that inner child inside of you to be the best you can be. Being comfortable stunts growth. No matter where you are in life, married, divorced, failing school, etc. question why you are there. Like my Contracts professor said, “if you know you do not belong here, get out as soon as possible!” And believe me, I did. The problem is that questioning oneself pisses people off because sometimes people cannot handle the truth. But, I am from the camp of people that firmly believe its better to be angry at the truth than living a beautiful lie. I had to stop lying to myself first, and then those around me. I didn’t want to wear a suit and tie for a living. I didn’t want to litigate and make people cry. I wanted something more that I can feel passionate about. And I am not saying that law is a bullshit career, because some people are great at it, but it just was not for me. And I often thought for a long time it was, and forced myself to think so because it is what society deems respectable. And even though I don’t get the same wows and oooooos I used to when I tell people what I am studying, I feel actualized. I no longer feel what I am doing is a chore, but a passion. And this only happened because I stopped listening to others and became aware of myself. Maybe this career change is not what its cracked up to be in the long run, but for now I grew a sense of awareness that takes people years to cultivate. And all I had to do was ask why.