Until a few days ago, I was certain I wouldn’t return to college this semester. Between my crippling depression, incapacitating executive function and concentration issues, and my physical weakness from POTS, living independently in less than two months while taking senior-level classes seemed like an impossibility.
“You’re going to hate me when I tell you this,” my cardiologist said this week.
I braced myself to be told my heart was damaged from Rheumatic Fever—or to be told my symptoms were all in my head, as so many doctors had said over the years…
With this latest relapse, I’ve been living as a ghost in my own life.
In a single day, I went from eagerly and excitedly whittling away at homework for my summer classes, to crying at the thought of writing a single paragraph of a paper. I went from enjoying meals and coffees with my friends, to being terrified of any group of people and not eating lunch at all. I went from being praised at school for contributions I made in my department, to wanting absolutely nothing to do with my chosen field.
