The Front Gate at Ohio University

Oh where do I begin… This is going to be a hard one to write… College was some of the best and worst times of my life.

Being bullied growing up made leaving for college incredibly hard. As much resentment as I had towards my parents for holding me back and not getting me help, I did not want them to leave when they moved me into my dorm. I was scared. Growing up, I wasn’t a partier like most of the kids I knew. At 15, 16, and 17 I didn’t go to parties and I didn’t drink like most of my friends. I was a homebody who had a serious boyfriend through most of high school. Leaving him was extremely hard. He had become my best friend and support system through everything in high school and at home. He was my first true love and saying goodbye was the worst day of my life.

My freshman roommate was nice. We were never close but we got a long, for the most part. She went out and partied every night and would come back to our dorm room and throw up all over our room. Guess who got stuck cleaning up after her? Me. Guess whose bed she would throw up on? Mine. It got old….fast! Other than that, she was nice and we got along. I had OCD issues when it came to keeping our room clean, but she dealt well with it.

I met so many new people at Ohio University and had a great group of friends. We would go out on the weekends to parties and bars. I felt like I fit in for once in my life.

Classes were another story. Even with an IEP, my grades were terrible. I was on probation quarter after quarter. I couldn’t get myself out of bed to get to class. I literally couldn’t get up. It’s not because I went out the night before and was hungover, it’s not because I was lazy and it’s not because I didn’t want to go. I literally couldn’t get myself out of bed. This is where my problems really started when it come to my mental health story.

I started to feel sorry for myself. I had sex with many guys who didn’t care about me, I drank a lot when I went out, I didn’t bother even trying to get up in the morning and I had no self respect. How were people supposed to respect me when I didn’t respect myself? These were all signs of being bipolar but I didn’t know that at the time.

This is where my mental health struggles really began.




To my new followers, welcome to Smiling Through Tears. This blog is a daily account of my struggle with mental health disorders. To all of my returning followers, thank you for supporting me and following my journey.

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