No Wasted Years

A few nights ago, a friend confided in me that they feel like the last three years or so of their life have been more or less wasted.

They explained how they’d read studies about how once people reach their late 20s, they start to be less likely to change or to heal from past traumatic experiences.

They said they’re worried that their depression and mental health generally will be largely “locked-in” the way it is now for the rest of their life.

The last few years of stagnation might’ve been their last chance to change, they said — a chance that was squandered.

I explained how I too have felt that about three years of my life were wasted.

After college, I moved to Providence, RI. Judged by outward metrics, I was “doing well”.

However, this was far from the truth. Although I had a remote writing job that I loved, my days were dark and hazy.

The reality was that I was in a deep depression and didn’t even know it. I was also severely restricting food.

Anorexia combined with undiagnosed and untreated ADHD is an especially dangerous combination. They swirled together to create a downward vortex from which it seemed impossible to break free. The resulting mental fog was impenetrable. It kept me from thinking clearly.

The haze was so thick that I couldn’t glimpse what was wrong or even recognize that I needed help.

During this time, I didn’t realize that I couldn’t fall asleep on a completely empty stomach. The unrelenting insomnia that ensued made it nigh unto impossible to stick to any kind of schedule or routine. 

There I was with the kind of job many of my friends would kill for.

I didn’t have to go into an office. I had one meeting a week. My work was interesting and rewarding. I was making enough money to travel and start saving for the future.

I seemed to have all the fixin’s to cook up a charmed, idyllic life.

Privately though, I felt like my life was a cruel, Midas-like joke. An ideal existence felt technically within reach, but my day-to-day consisted of miserable inaction.

I couldn’t figure out why no amount of weekly planning sessions, goal-setting symposiums, or to-do list seances could conjure up the can-do attitude I just knew could lift me out of my malaise. 

This specter floated over with me when I moved from New England to Logan, Utah.

Another year of fog followed.

However, during that time, slowly, almost imperceptibly, the murkiness began to dissipate. Therapy, self-reflection, and daring to step out of my comfort zone all seemed to begin to clear the air a bit.

Finally, in a single week, the ground started shaking beneath me. Seismic shifts rocked my internal (and external) world. 

Although it’s taken a year and a half to clear away the rubble, sift through the pieces, and begin repairing a cracked foundation, the fog has finally lifted. (Are you still following my mixed metaphors)?

With the help of therapists, nurses, doctors, and a not-so-short stint at an eating disorder hospital, I’m at long last feeling clear-headed and able to take action.

I still have hard days, but now I have the tools to work through them, and I know when to ask for help.

I now see that in the midst of my struggles during those tough, seemingly unproductive years, I was mulling through and processing thoughts, emotions, and past experiences. I was working through the things that had to be examined, at least a little bit, before I was ready for the bigger stuff.

Had I not had those few years of preparation, I know that I wouldn’t have been able to handle confronting the really challenging things head-on these past months.

I realize now that those hazy few years following graduation weren’t wasted — they were critical to get me to a healthier and happier place. 

“You don’t think ‘What a waste!’ when you’re heating water, and you’ve gotten it all the way to 179 degrees. You know that in a few seconds it will start boiling. Although you couldn’t see it, you need the first few minutes of heating the pot to get the water to its boiling point.”

While these past few years may seem “wasted” to them right now, I told my friend that there will likely come a day when they’ll notice they were actually necessary to move forward and find healing.

I also explained that I, for one, as a friend, have seen major progress in their life over the past few years. I admitted as well how much their example has benefited me. I don’t think that I would be doing as well as I am right now without their help.

As far as it being “too late” to work through mental health challenges or process trauma, I explained that I don’t think that’s true.

“You”, I said, “are not the average of a plot of data points. I’ve seen how you’ve changed and grown these past years.

I see how you’re still changing. You have an open mind and are willing to work through the hard things.

Please don’t give up.”