It was recently brought to my attention that I use the word "okay" too often. Apparently I rarely use "good" or "great" or any combination of adjectives to describe either a feeling or a situation or what have you. I won't deny that accusation.
"Okay" was always the word that was the most fitting.
Things haven't really been "good" or "great" for a long while. My first year of college was pretty rough emotionally, and then my parents got divorced out of the gate for my sophomore year. It was then that I decided to subject myself to the terror of The State News. It was good for me, because I was unable to really stop and think about what my life was really like. I didn't have time to dwell.
That summer, and the year following, things slowed down pretty considerably. But it was still okay. I was okay. I had survived. I was older and supposedly wiser, but I didn't feel any better than "just okay."
Okay is acceptance, only satisfactory, not exceptional. Okay is approval. Okay doesn't necessarily mean change or anything great. It isn't an optimistic word, but for those of you that know me, I'm not necessarily an optimistic person. I take things as they are.
I saw a therapist as a junior. We talked once a week, and then once every other week. We talked about balancing my life, and letting go, and moving on. Every time we met he would ask me "How are you feeling today?"
My answer was typically 'okay.' Whether it's because my appointments were at 9 in the morning or because I truly was only accepting my life as it was, I couldn't say. But that was okay (see what I did there?).
I stopped going to a therapist for a while, and then the panic attacks started again senior year. I couldn't breathe. I thought I had pneumonia. I thought I was having a heart attack at 20. It lasted well over an hour.
Now, I'm no stranger to panic attacks. The sudden onset of "hey, ass hole, you're going to die" has been something I've been dealing with since high school. Just like a lot of other people.
After therapy, there were several months in between them. Senior year, they were happening every other day. I went back to group. I was on several different antidepressants and anti-anxiety pills. The first set made me worse. The second set made me feel a little better.
I've been on pills for, come August, almost a year. I'm not a person that's fond of being on medication for a long time, which is why I put it off for so long.
And it's also why, as of today, I'm no longer on medication.
School is over, I'm no longer working for a newspaper, I've let go of people that were causing me more damage than good, and I've accepted a lot of things in my life that I was previously unable to accept.
I've move past just mild acceptance of my current life. I'm looking to move forward.
I'm doing better.
I feel great.
