E.O.

I was not the best person in high school. I was bullied and depressed. I struggled with eating disorders and anxiety. I used these as excuses to act out and as a way to justify my poor decisions. I figured as long as I was getting good grades and thriving scholastically then everything was okay. The day I got into Cal Poly was the first time I truly felt significant. I did not have many friends in high school as I was very shy and introverted, but college was going to be my opportunity to start new and become the outgoing person I always wanted to be.

Exactly one week after my high school graduation my heart gave out on me and I died on a hospital table. After one round of CPR my surgeon revived me and I was given a second chance at life. I still remember waking up in the ICU knowing something bad had happened. My mom tried to calm me down but I knew that something was not right. My surgeon explained to me that I had an undiagnosed cardiac arrhythmia which caused the arrest and told me that everything was going to be okay. He encouraged me to take advantage of this opportunity and to start living the life I wanted. For the first few weeks I found myself being surprisingly optimistic. People whom I was not very close with in high school visited me and told me how happy they were that I was okay. I found myself connecting with my faith once again and thanking God for giving me the opportunity of a second chance. I decided not to question kind gestures and this new sense of optimism and decided I would make this second chance the life I wanted. 

After a month or two my depression crept back into my life. I began questioning this “second chance” and constantly wondered why me? I cannot express the stress I have felt from being brought back to life. I spend every day of my life wondering why me? Why of all people was I given a second chance? Every time a young person passes away I question why I was brought back and they were not. Why did I deserve it more than someone else? If I spend a day in bed, I wasted a day which I did not even deserve to have. When I have a hard day or find myself depressed and crying I become angry and wonder why I am crying. I should not be anything but grateful that I am alive and breathing. I some days find myself thinking “I did not deserve this second chance and it would have been so much easier if they had not done CPR.”

Coming to college I tried my best to find that optimism and went out of my way to strike up conversations. I decided to take the “fake it till you make it” approach which honestly worked for me; people who met me in college would probably laugh at me if I ever told them I used to be quiet and shy. As I started meeting new people, I decided to open up about my story as I felt it was a very unique and interesting fun fact. What I did not expect was every time I told someone my story they would tell me how much of a blessing it is that I get to have a second chance. While I do believe that in some way this is a blessing, hearing people say it to me feels like I am being buried alive-buried in expectations. It may sound crazy to others but it feels like people expected me to come back smarter, wiser, more driven, hopeful, optimistic, and free of every day issues. In all honestly, I feel like I am being set up for failure. I cannot do this life right. I believe people who knew me then look at me like a miracle and expect tremendous things from me. It feels like nothing I do is enough for the girl I am supposed to be. I feel trapped in this persona which I have taken on because it felt like who I was supposed to be. I try to be lively and outgoing and sarcastic when in reality I still feel like that scared, introverted anxious girl who doesn't know her purpose. I feel like I am supposed to have my life together and understand why I was given this second chance but in reality I do not know what in the hell I am doing here.

As time has gone on I have not had any huge epiphanies informing me why I go this second chance or exposing to me my life purpose. I still often feel as if I am suffocating in the wrong person’s body and find myself crying at least once a week from the stresses of this life. I have not become any wiser nor have I done any tremendous acts to save mankind. I have, however, learned an incredible lesson which have made me into the woman I am today. I have learned the importance of a person’s story. I struggled for a long time with the issue of comparison. I compared everyone’s issues to mine. I could not believe that some people thought losing their goldfish was as impactful as my heart problems. I felt like my problems were bigger than everyone else’s and I decided that gave me an excuse to isolate myself and my feelings. It was in this dark, isolating time that the words my mother told me my entire life finally made sense: Everyone has a story. It took me 20 years to understand what she meant by this.  Everyone is climbing their own mountain. Though it may not be as steep or as tall as your own, it does not make it any less a mountain. These are the words which get me through each day. 

One year after my cardiac episode I posted about what happened. It was not a secret but it was the first time I posted on social media that my heart had stopped. I decided to share the post highlighting all of the positives that had come of my experience. I shared a post of optimism, faith, and gratefulness that I had this second chance. When I was writing the post, it did not feel fake as I had only ever told people about the positives of the situation. I had never and still have never told anyone how hard this survivors guilt is to live with and that is my personal mountain. It is the burden which defines me and which dictates the way I live my life. Every single person on this earth has their own burden. When Girls Who Handle It began last year I was astounded that these strong, empowering women were willing to let their guards down and share the stories of the mountains they are climbing. They were open and vulnerable and it was beautiful. This gave me the boost I needed to ask for help and to let my emotions show. I realized I do not need to pretend that everything is okay when it is not and that is okay. Not every day is easy and some days feel completely impossible. Some days I hate myself for everything I am not, but I try my best to remind myself the parts of me I love.