Maggies and Mules
A year ago, if you would have told me I would dress up in all black, spend a good amount of time doing my makeup ---- complete with my favorite red lipstick
---- and go to a bar by myself, I would have laughed in your face... because a year ago, I was not in a place to be able to do something like this. I've blogged before about how much I have drastically improved within this past year, despite depressive and anxious thoughts constantly infesting my life; they're like cockroaches. Gross. {Shudders}.
But this was the problem: last year, I was incredibly unhappy. I wanted to be happy, but it was hard, because I felt so empty, and I didn't know why. I knew that I needed to transfer back home (i.e. transfer schools) to try to get rid of this emptiness, but it was a lose-lose situation, because transferring home meant leaving behind all of my friends, thus making me feel even more empty. I didn't want to leave them, but I knew if I wanted the status of my mental health to improve, then I needed to pack up all of my things, say goodbye, and move home for good.
I tried making a lot of changes to try to fill the emptiness I felt in my life after transferring. I dyed my hair darker in hopes to become a "new me." I wanted to try to erase who I was: the sad, lonely, empty, lost girl. In reality, though, that I wanted to reflect how I felt, because I felt so dark on the inside ---- my heart felt black, and I think I wanted other people to see that. I think I desperately wanted other people to see how much I was hurting... as if a hair color could have shown them this. I still smiled and pretended everything was fine, but I still struggled a lot, especially because I constantly felt lonely without my friends.
Starting at a new university and a new job meant that I kind of had a clean slate (and plenty of new, positive opportunities!), though, and I used this as motivation. Despite work being extremely stressful, I refused to quit, because it was like social homework for me ---- a chance for me to challenge my social anxiety and make myself better. I also knew that if I quit, I wouldn't be able to hang out (even if it was just at work) with the new, cool people I met. I told myself that I had to take the bad with the good ---- and there was so much good. I still cried for seemingly no reason occasionally, but my mood was improving. As my mood changed, so did my hair color; I slowly started to dye it lighter to reflect that my insides were becoming lighter, too.
The thing I've realized about depression and anxiety is that dealing with them is like the most intense emotional rollercoaster that one could ever imagine. One day, it feels like I'm going up and up, so excited for what's to come, but then the next, I'm holding on for dear life and screaming as I go zooming down a steep decline. Within this past year, I've gone up and down so many times that I've felt so much unbearable nausea. I should be used to this nausea by now, but I'm not ---- I'm still trying to figure out how to deal with these constant ups and downs. I'm still trying to deal with the fact that even though my hair is light, my insides don't always feel so light.
Nonetheless, I am arguably SO much better than I was a year ago today. The Maggie from a year ago never would have heard the Old Dominion song, "Half Empty," and decided that she wanted to go to a bar by herself; the Maggie from a year ago today never would have been able to wear all black, including a black leather jacket, with dark makeup and red lipstick and walk into a bar without hiding behind anyone, because the Maggie from a year ago today was so scared and unsure of herself, and her social anxiety never would have allowed her to go to that bar, even if it was with people; the Maggie from a year ago never would have stepped into that bar in the first place.
However, last night, I put on dark eyeshadow and my new signature red lipstick (my mom has now started calling me "Lips"); I put my hair in a high ponytail; I put on my favorite pair of black (ripped!) jeans, a black sweater, a pair of black boots that I got for Christmas, and a black choker; I put on my black leather jacket, looked in the mirror and told myself I was a badass, and drove to the restaurant I used to work at with every intention to walk in there without any fear or hesitation, without any self-consciousness or reluctancy, without anything except sureness and confidence and positivity. I was going to sit at the bar by myself, order myself a drink, and avoid being on my phone too much.
When I pulled into the parking lot, though, a wave of nervousness hit me like a slap in the face, and for a minute, I considered just turning around and saying, "Screw it. It's fine." But within that minute, a lot of questions ran through my mind, the main two being: Would I be okay with not reaching my goal? What would have been the point of putting so much effort into achieving that feeling of badassery?
If I decided to stay in my car and drive back home, I knew I would have been incredibly disappointed in myself, and my effort would have been a waste. So instead of giving up, I said, "F*CK IT!" out loud to myself in the most confident voice I could muster, got out of my car, and marched to the door, despite my heart pounding ---- despite feeling slightly nauseous. I was going to do this, even if I wasn't as sure, confident, and positive as I originally wanted to be. I was doing this, despite feeling slightly self-conscious, uncomfortable, and awkward. I was doing this.
AND I DID IT: I sat at the bar and avoided being on my phone too much; the fact that all my old coworkers, including two of my good friends, kept coming up to me and talking to me helped tremendously ---- being in a familiar environment did as well, because I didn't feel (all that) uncomfortable. I ordered a Bud Light, my fave, and then a Tropical Mule (which included Lemon Liqueur; Jake Owen's Beach Whiskey, the Coconut kind; Ginger Beer, and limes... 10/10, highly recommend). While drinking the Mule, I realized something:
I am a Mule, because by definition, a mule is a combination of different things, and I am a combination of different things ---- I am a combination of two versions of myself, because though I am still partially the Maggie that I was a year ago (I am still scared, lonely, sad, and lost at times), I am also a new and improved Maggie: this new and improved Maggie is way more confident and happy than the one from a year ago; today, I am able to laugh at myself and the silly mistakes I make rather than being too upset that I'm not perfect. As time goes on and my depression and anxiety keep improving, I know that confidence and happiness will become more of the norm for me.
Confidence and happiness are making my life as enjoyable as that Tropical Mule was, and I can't wait for what the next year holds... hopefully it'll be filled with a lot more yummy Mules shared with the people that I love.
xoxo,
Mag
