the first step...

Hi, my name is M.C., First of all, I want to say that I've never done anything like this before in my life. I'm not a writer, I'm not very smart, I don't read books, and I don't know how to spell well. Correct grammar is a foreign aspect to me. I don't follow any sort of rules, and I'm not skilled in any particular area. I'm the definition of "peaked in high school" and "wasting your twenties away." Today, I want to change that and not have any regrets when I'm old. I can't say at least I tried to be the best thing I can be for myself and the people around me in this life. So, bear with me. Correct my poor spelling and grammar, and judge or enjoy this as I write about myself and the journey to be better. Thank you.

The First Step...

I think the first step to any problem is to realize that there is one, confront it, and come to terms with all the feelings and the reality of the situation you're in. I am miserable, and I'm the reason why. I don't believe that perfection is real, but if it were, I'm definitely not perfect. I've hurt people and those relationships that I was meant to protect. For what? To try to please and benefit selfish desires and others? I guess now that I think of it, ever since I was younger, I've never truly said what's on my mind without trying to figure out what the other person wanted me to say first. I've always been scared and anxious about what others might think of me and the judgment that might come with it. If you were to ask anyone how I was as a kid, they would have said I was "outgoing," "extroverted," and able to make friends with anyone. But I always put on a mask that would suit me best in that situation. A sad mix of personalities like paint, I put them on masks to overly try and please people to get who knows what from the situation. I didn't realize how bad what I was doing was until I got older. But the more I did it, the more anxious I'd get, and the more the weight in my chest would feel like it was crushing me through the floor. Right now, as I'm typing this and trying to air out my feelings and come to terms with my problems, my hands are shaking, and my chest feels like it's gained the same gravity as Jupiter. For some reason, even though I knew that how I was acting was the problem, I thought that if I stopped putting on these masks for everyone, I'd have no one and truly be alone. So, in conclusion, what did I do when eventually people started to see the real me and call me out? Deny, deny, deny... Oh, and because I chose not to deal with the problems head-on, it just led me to double down and take on vices. The poison was alcohol and MDMA.

The poisons held onto me for a long time. I didn't know myself because I was scared, and others only knew the drunk or high version of me that was feeding off their energy to try to relate and connect with them. However, we all have a sixth sense when it comes to discerning genuine actions and personalities. In the short term, it seemed like a good idea and plan—only seeing people on weekends when we're all trying to have fun can work. But when those friendships start to develop into something more profound than just sharing drinks, that's when the sixth sense kicks in.

The most significant realization after acknowledging that the problem was me is that I don't know myself anymore. I was lost, and I still am. The silver lining of hitting rock bottom is that there's nothing left to lose and no one to lose. I believe that I can change; I just need to define who I want to be and where I want to go. I've spent seven years lost in the anxiety of trying to be someone else for the pleasure of others, enduring torment from addictions and brain fog. Now, it's time—time to discover who I truly am and what I aspire to become.

Thank you for reading.