When I was 14 years old, I was laying in my bed watching TV when all of a sudden, my chest started to feel really tight, my throat felt like it was closing in, and breathing started to get really difficult. I was wondering what the actual fuck is happening to me? Later on, I realized that this was my first, of many, panic attacks. It was brought on because of the anxiety I had around playing soccer in high school.

Soccer was my life. It was my everything. It was the one thing that I was really good at - the one thing that made my parents actually pay attention to me.

It was my identity, who I was.

During a summer soccer game my sophomore year, everything changed. I was wearing outdoor cleats on turf, and while I was running, the spikes on the bottom of my cleat got stuck on the ground. I’ll never forget the sound of tearing my ACL. It was like time slowed and while I laid on the ground, crying, staring at the sky, I knew everything had changed. In this moment, I lost the biggest part of myself. I had no idea who I was without soccer, and I had no idea what I was going to do.

I closed my heart, and I lost myself.

While I was going through my recovery, I discovered my mother’s infidelity, and I held that secret in, afraid of destroying the family. And boy, was I pissed off about it. I was depressed, anxious, and so angry, and I lost myself in all of it. I hated my life. I hated what happened to me. I didn’t want to be here anymore. Antidepressants helped only enough to keep me going through the motions of life.

Over time, my memory started to get worse and got to the point where I couldn't even remember something that happened 5 minutes ago. I was diagnosed with dissociative amnesia somewhere between age 18 to 20. I don’t actually remember when. I couldn't remember my day-to-day, much less even know who I was. I was so far removed from my body... as far as I could go without ending my life.

I started going to therapy in my senior year of college. At the time, I was staying so busy with two jobs and partying that I didn’t allow myself any time to think but I felt deep down that something had to give. In therapy, I finally found someone who helped me understand myself a bit more. 

In 2015, my best friend lost her life in a motorcycle accident. And I was too broke to fly to be at her funeral. At the same time, another best friend of mine decided she no longer wanted to be friends with me. I lost two of the five people that were closest to me in the same year, and I felt like everything was dissolving.