I started this collage during the pandemic. It was supposed to be a self-portrait, but I couldn’t finish it. I had fallen so deep, and lost so much of myself, that I didn’t even know who I was anymore. I had come to the dark realization that I had been living my life for other people, constantly sacrificing pieces of myself for the sake of doing what is “right.” I was in a very bad place mentally for a very long time, and I hadn’t even realized how bad it had gotten until that year when we were all forced to stop, or at least slow down.
I haven’t shared too much of this before, but I had always dreamed of owning and operating my own restaurant. I thought that little hippie bar was my dream come true, until it became my own personal nightmare. I was in the process of buying it, meeting with bankers for loans and lawyers for legal advice, when my panic attacks became their absolute worst. I was waking up in the middle of the night out of a dead sleep in full on crisis mode, and that’s when I knew that I had to give up that dream. Then I began to think about the direction in which my life was going. I was the highest position I was ever going to be at that restaurant. I was in that building 80 hours a week and on call 24/7. It was wearing on me. And if I wasn’t going to own it, why was I even there? So one day in January of 2018 I typed up my resignation and emailed it to the owner. I gave her a month’s notice, plenty of time to choose and train a replacement, and that was that. Or so I thought.
I started working for my brother part-time, writing invoices and delivering shirts, while I figured out what I wanted to do with my life. I also worked on the food truck, only doing local one-day events around town as I was not interested in running the festival circuit. I’m not sure why I kept working on the truck, even after getting blown up in it. I am one of those people that has a difficult time letting go of things, that and my self-worth was so low at that point in my life.
My mental health was in the toilet. I spent most of my mornings just trying to stop crying so that I could get done what needed to get done that day. I hid in my house, hoping that I would figure out what it was that was so wrong with me, why I couldn’t find happiness in this life, wanting to end it all. I obviously needed some outside help. The medication that I had been taking for years was no longer working, and I knew deep down that popping more Xanax wasn’t really going to solve any of my problems. I knew that I had to learn how to pick up all the pieces of my life, and then I had to actually do it.
I did the only thing I knew to do: I called my best friend and asked her where she went to therapy. I had been to see a counselor before, but that practice had since shut down and I hadn’t seen that person in years anyway. I had one session with the new person, before she sent me on my way. She couldn’t help me. I had years of trauma that I had never dealt with, including the food truck fiasco. I needed more specialized treatment. She connected me with a trauma specialist, one trained in EMDR.
For two years I worked on unraveling myself from all of the harm that had befallen me, slowly picking away at it all until it no longer held such control over my life. We humans do like to hold onto our trauma. I started running again. I started writing again, sharing what I was learning along the way in the hopes that it would help someone else not feel so alone in their own struggles. I know I did for a long time. I never wanted anyone to feel the way that I did, so I kept going. What other option did I have?
It took me until this past year to figure out who I really am and what kind of life I want to lead. And trust me when I say that I am just as shocked as you are. For the first time in a really long time I can actually say that I am happy. I have no idea what this next year is going to bring me, but I am so ready for it. I am excited to see how this next chapter is going to play out. And I can finally say that I know who the fuck I am. I think I am finally ready to finish my collage.
Mad love, Jenna
