So I’ve been feeling a lot of things recently and I need to tell someone, so what better way than to publish it on the Internet for everyone to see? Just kidding, but I really need to tell some people some things and I’m too scared to do that in person, so I hope this does that. If you’re my friend, or family member, I hope this explains some stuff. And then I hope you ask me about it. I really want to be asked about it, but I’m too scared to just talk about it.

I’m about to reference a lot of my medical history, so if you want a more in depth look at my life, you should read the About Me page or the piece I wrote last summer, I Lived. But I’ll give you a brief summary here if you’re short on time:

I had leukemia when I was seventeen months old, and then I relapsed when I was three which is when I underwent extensive treatment. As a result, I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer when I was eleven, and also have a myriad of smaller, but still significant health issues, including cataracts (bad eyes), scoliosis (bad back), growth hormone deficiency (I’m a shorty), reproductive system problems (bad organs), and, the one that’s hardest for me to admit, mental health issues (anxiety, depression, all the good stuff). Wow life really sucks sometimes. I would know.

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Have you every felt utterly ashamed of something about you? Something you did? Something you regret not doing? Just something in your life? I’m most ashamed of the thing I’m supposed to be most proud of. I’m ashamed of my medical history. I’m ashamed that I had cancer.

Isn’t that ironic? Aren’t I supposed to be proud that I beat cancer three freaking times and I’m alive and thriving? Aren’t I supposed to be proud that I have made it this far in life and am this successful? But instead I’m utterly ashamed, and that’s just plain sad and pathetic.

I had a really rough first year at Cornell, a dream school by the way. There’s not a day that I don’t walk through campus and think how lucky I am to be there. I’ve been through a lot of crap, but this isn’t crappy. Anyway, I had a really rough first year at Cornell, but one of the coolest things that happened was I joined a dance team, Big Red Raas. I’ve danced for a long time, but never Indian dance, so this was super cool. My sister started it actually. She was on her school’s raas team and she made such great friends, I, like the little sister I am, wanted to copy her. I didn’t actually think I’d make it on the team, but I got a call at 10AM on a Saturday asking if I wanted to join. My answer was yes, of course! I wanted to make new friends, and do something I liked, and be active (I’m not super athletic, so doing any form of exercise has always been a struggle).

I really thought everything was going great, and I was making new friends and adjusting, and first semester was rough but going well. I really convinced myself of this. Until I got home for winter break. And about a week and a half into break, I fell into one of the worst feelings. If you haven’t read past pieces, you don’t know about this, but it’s called depersonalization. It’s my mind playing tricks on me. I feel not present, like I’m walking to get a glass of water but I don’t actually feel like I’m doing it. It’s like someone else is doing that. And I have to constantly ask myself, “Did that really happen? Did I really successfully get a cup of water?”

This horrible thing has happened to me before, but only for a week, week and a half. This time, it lasted almost two and a half weeks. My whole winter break was gone. And when it was over, what I realized was first semester had completely and utterly sucked. I went into college thinking everything would be different. I would make so many new friends, drama-free. I was going to be super active being on a dance team and all and they would become my closest friends because we would spend so much time together. I’d do well in all my classes because I knew how to work hard.

And none of my high expectations were met. None of my friends, on the team or not, knew anything about me. I struggled through my classes, calling my parents crying literally the first week of classes. I came home for winter break, and I was mentally and emotionally drained. So my body shut down for two and a half weeks. The psychiatrist told me I sounded depressed when I told him I was really ready to give up, not just on school, but on being alive.

All my life, I’ve been on autopilot. I get cancer, and I don’t really have a choice. You fight and you live, or you give up and you die. And I was too young to understand. So, my parents and I fought and I lived. Again. And then a third time. And through these episodes of depersonalization I’d always been told to keep going, that things would get better and I’d be back to normal soon. I just had to fight. So I fought and came out happy on the other side.

But this time, it had been two weeks, and I was exhausted. I felt like I’d failed in my classes, like I hadn’t made any friends, like what was supposed to be a great experience (college), was just sucking. So I asked myself what if I just gave up? If I wasn’t around, nobody except my parents and sister would really miss me.

Ok at this point I’d like to mention that I’m fine. I was never planning on hurting myself, I just wanted to not fight. I swear I’m fine Ma, I really am. I’m getting help. And I’ve figured out what’s wrong. I’m ok.

The psychiatrist prescribed me a new medicine because I sounded depressed. I was never actively going to hurt myself, I’m too great of a person to do that. I’ve been through too much crap to throw it all away so quickly. But man living is hard sometimes.

I went back to school a week later. I had different expectations: I would not worry so much if I didn’t get all A’s in my classes, I would get help with therapy, and I would open up more to my friends. (I’d like to note that I saw a therapist in my hometown but didn’t see one at school until this semester, second semester.)

Things were going great. I was talking more to people on the team, less afraid of being judged. I found a therapist and psychiatrist at Cornell Health and was talking about the crappy stuff. I was taking my classes day by day.

In February I got this really cool experience where I got to travel to NYC and Florida with my dance team for competitions. It was so much fun and so relaxing. Of course I had midterms sandwiched in between, but I still had fun.

Everything was going great, everything was better.

Spring break was the first week of April, and then the week after was a rough week. Our dance showcase was the Saturday after we came back from break, so everyday that week we had practice for hours. I stayed up late studying, I had a midterm, I had tons of work. On Saturday we had our showcase and I was so excited, and then utterly disappointed. I’d asked around eleven to twelve people to come, and about eight of them had said no for one reason or another. I was supposed to sell seven tickets. I sold three. And out of those three, one person showed up.

That really sucked. But I still had fun. And then we had an after party. But by 2AM I was exhausted and ready to go to bed. It had been a freakishly long week and I was drained. I climbed in bed and fell asleep.

And when I woke up Sunday morning, I felt terrible. It was noon and I was still exhausted. I had inklings of depersonalization. But I thought it was just exhaustion. So I went back to sleep. I woke up at three, and then I knew. It had happened again. I was feeling not present, having that out of body experience. Every day that week I would wake up with my heart racing a mile a minute hoping I felt better. Every step I would take I felt disoriented and nervous. When I feel this way, I hate social interactions. I was supposed to have another dance performance the coming weekend, and I dropped out. I tearfully emailed my captains and told them I wasn’t feeling well. And then I didn’t go to my classes for the rest of the week.

And now it’s Sunday. I’ve been feeling like this for a whole week. But I guess the difference is I feel like I know what’s wrong now. I’m unhappy.

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Our dance practices end late, around 11PM, so all the freshmen often go back to our dorms together. When we miss the bus, we like to walk. Except the uphill walk hurts my back, so I wait for the bus alone. Gosh nothing more humiliating than saying yeah I could be back in my dorm in fifteen minutes but I’m gonna wait those fifteen minutes at the bus stop because my stupid back hurts. My stupid back hurts because of that stupid treatment I had because of that stupid cancer.

Nothing worse than when everyone is dancing for four solid minutes but I can’t make it two before feeling like I’m gonna collapse of exhaustion. I don’t have any stamina, partly because I never worked at it, partly because of that stupid treatment because of that stupid cancer.

In the beginning of the semester I had to leave a two hour class early for a doctor’s appointment. When my friend asked me if I was okay when I left an hour into the class, I said yeah I just had a doctor’s appointment. What appointment could I not get at any other time? A psychiatry appointment, which are hard to come by. We’re not supposed to be embarrassed to get help for our mental health, but the world sucks and has convinced me that it’s embarrassing that I do need that help.

All of these things, I’m so ashamed of. Embarrassed. And the worst part is I have no reason to be. It’s not my fault. But I take all these little things and I push them down. I think I’m happy, but all these little things are biting at me. And then my body crashes. And suddenly I’m not happy at all. I’m sad, very extremely sad. And I’m begging God to let me not feel depersonalized anymore.

If you read the About Me page you’ll see it says that I don’t fully accept that I’ve had a rough life. If you’d asked me two years ago, I’d have said that while having cancer sucks, it’s taught me a lot about myself and I wouldn’t trade my life.

I lied. Ask me now. If I could go back in time to change anything about my life, I’d change the fact that I even had cancer in the first place. This would change my whole life. But I would do that in the blink of an eye. Because the pain I feel daily, the sadness I feel for things I can’t control, so not worth the life experiences I’ve learned. I am unhappy. And that’s not okay.

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Okay so I’m unhappy. Now I know, I’m going to fix it. One thing you’ll learn about me is I am extremely determined. A strength and a downfall. A strength for the obvious reasons. But a downfall because I’m a perfectionist, because I keep going when I should stop, because I put myself through stressful situations.

But right now it’s a strength. I am not the happiest, but I’m okay. I’m alive, and I’m going to keep going. That’s a decision I made a long time, when I was seventeen months old and decided to fight. Excuse my language, but I didn’t go through all this shit in my life to give up. That’s not how it works.

If you read all the way through, I’m really thankful for you. And I hope this tells you something you didn’t know. And I hope it explains stuff. Why I take the bus when I could walk, why I sit in the front of the room in class, why my first year wasn’t as great as a lot of other people’s. If you’re still reading, I want you to know I’m okay. I promise I’m not gonna hurt myself, and I’m still getting help. It’s not embarrassing; I’m seeing a therapist tomorrow. And if you’re my mom and you’re completely freaking out right now and probably crying a ton, I’m okay. I’m going to be. My worst nightmare was feeling depersonalized at school. But here I am feeling that way. And I’m going to get out of this deep dark hole.

But by all means, I hope the next time you see me I’m feeling normal again. And I hope you ask me any questions you have. There’s nothing worse than having people stare at you. Trust me, in sixth grade, so many people would just stare at the freakishly large scar on my neck and not ask. And while explaining to the people that did ask was hard, it was a lot better defining myself as the cancer survivor than as the girl with the scar. So ask me your questions. If you’re my new friends at Cornell then welcome to my mess of a life. And if you’re my family, then now you’ve stepped into my brain and see my mess of a life.

And if you’re reading this and are about to go to college, don’t freak out. I know so many people who had a great first year. I had great moments in my first semester, a lot of them were with my team having brunch or going to competitions or just hanging out in practice. The first year isn’t exactly what I painted it to be. I just have a lot of baggage.

One last thing. If you know anyone who’s had cancer, tell them to hit me up. I’ve always felt alone, like people didn’t understand how I felt. I’d really like to talk to someone.

Okay I’m done. Thanks for reading. I’ll probably see you tomorrow or talk to you tomorrow at this rate since I just spilled some heavy information. But I swear I’m okay.