Op Ed: It’s Not Easy, But It Gets Better

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By Lee Taylor, Opinion Editor

Throughout  my entire life my family begged me to grow up, to come out of my shell. They all laughed when I said I was going to live with my mom forever. But, once I actually did, once I started making decisions for myself, they all hated it. They resented me for doing the one thing they never thought I could be: independent. 

When I was in the first stages of moving out, I had a lot of anxiety. I would spend every night with my head in the toilet, crying and hoping it got easier. So many people questioned why I chose to move out at 18 when I had a nice big house and I was just going into my sophomore year of college. They all criticized me, saying I was only doing it because my partner, who I was planning on moving in with, wanted me to. 

I was constantly belittled by my family- they always told me I was a follower, incapable of making my own decisions. They accused me of it as a child when I would stick by my older brother, and they did it once again. The thing I couldn’t manage to convince them of was that this was completely my decision. My partner, originally from Virginia, planned on waiting until I graduated to move either here to Pennsylvania or wherever the wind would take us. I, however, felt like I was in a rut and I needed something new desperately. Like if I continued on with the monotony of the life I was living then I would be stuck forever. 

For anyone who knows me it’s no secret that I didn’t have an amazing life growing up, but my relationship with my parents, one of whom I wasn’t (and still am not) speaking to at all, was so tense that everyday living there was like another string holding my mental health together was being snipped, and  I feared for what would happen if they were all cut. 

Of course, I was never in any immediate danger to either myself or anyone around me, but anyone who struggles with mental health and trauma issues understands the feeling: one that is too hard to explain with words alone. When you’re struggling with undiagnosed anxiety and depression, and you’re forced to make a tough decision, all you want is for someone to support you, and I had absolutely no one. 

I’ve never felt more alone in my life than I did in the three weeks before I moved out. Every day my mom and I fought, my older brother rarely spoke to me, and my younger brother (my best friend) was forced to console both my mother and I, which is no easy feat for a 15-year-old. 

I did it, though. I survived the worst parts of my life and you can too. Toughing it out is the hardest part, but I promise it’s not impossible and despite what your brain tells you, you are not alone. I know opening up to people can be hard, especially if the people you trust aren’t there for you, but it is absolutely worth it. 

My email is taylorl@susqu.edu; I check it multiple times daily. If you need an ear any time of the day, please don’t hesitate to reach out. I will never, ever be bothered and I’ve been there. I know its hard and I know it’s scary, but I also know that it gets better.