Superhero

I couldn't do it. I just couldn't do it.

And there's no profound answer as to why; other than that the future is a 6-letter word and evidently likes playing hard-to-get. In May, I was flirting with the electric landscape of the wild west and falling for the man who brought me there. By August, that man had disappeared into the smoke-choked haze of a Colorado summer.

And so had I.

Idealism and ambition is intoxicating, but mix in a healthy dose of what is supposedly "reality" and you'll sober right up. For me, the come-down was crushing (picture an elephant after Thanksgiving deadlifting John Cena, whilst sitting on my heart). Forget depression. This was worse. This was my entire sense of self shifting -- the realization that I wanted things out of life that most people will occasionally entertain after a couple glasses of wine (yes, babe, let's go wander the jungles of French Polynesia and maybe adopt a monkey to bring back home) but who are just as content with writing down on a Notes entry in their phone to revisit "when the timing is better."

I, on the other hand, would rather eat said adopted monkey's feces than swim the Great Barrier reef on my computer screen at an internet café, or explore forgotten apus of the lost Inca Empire through the lens of a documentary.

Okay, admittedly, I don't think I could go through with the monkey feces (although I do hear it is among the more refined of the variety...if I had to choose). But still -- my happiness and fulfillment in this world hinge upon a singular, fragile concept: I can pursue every passion with unadulterated verve, wildly free and untangled from the yoke of society's expectations. Or, rather, the one I've dutifully fastened around my own neck.

When I graduated, those expectations were as ever-imposing on my subconscious as they were unfounded. Nevertheless, I had it in my mind that I was to move immediately, start my career and also start (god forbid) being an adult. So, being the obedient lemming I am to my persistent will, I picked up and moved to Denver to, you know, adult. Turns out it's not all that great. It's like being the new kid in school, only you're the new kid in the entire world. I found myself standing amidst the Denver skyline with no clue who I was, what I was doing with my life, and a deepening feeling of despair smiling up insidiously at me from the streets below.

The months I spent there were enlightening, to say the least. I spent hours wallowing in bed, thoughts marinating in my lust for a life of adventure, discovery, wonder. Juxtaposed with my current existence, that life felt like a distant future memory; maybe it wasn't even possible at all.

But.

I just couldn't do it.

I couldn't sustainably live this way, knowing that a more fulfilled life was out there, albeit elusive. Not only that, but I was emotionally miserable. I was, in fact, suffering from a major depressive episode (not my first, of course) but one that just about sucked the life from me. The greatest romantic love I had ever experienced had simply walked out of my life, taking a part of my heart with him. And I was homesick. So, yeah. Not sustainable. At the time I thought this was giving up. But now, looking back on it, I see it as one of the most courageous things I've ever done. I needed to save myself.

So I came home. I started therapy. I tried a new antidepressant. I got a job working with animals (and not just any animal...DOGS!). I exercised more. You know, all the things you're supposed to do when you're starting over. But this time was different. This time I wasn't running away from myself. I was confronting her head on. And more than that, I knew what I wanted. I wanted a love that stuck by my side no matter what I was going through. I wanted a job where I could make a real difference. I wanted to be with my family. I was ready for the pain and the hard work because for the first time in a long time I was positive that I would come out the other side a better person for it.

I guess what I'm saying, is: sometimes it's not just okay to accept the help and support that is offered to you. It's necessary. And doing that is not giving up, or failing. It's allowing yourself to be vulnerable, but also being a superhero for yourself. You are miles closer to living the life you've always dreamed of (as cheesy as that sounds) than someone who simply accepts life as the version they've been told.

I refuse to living anything less than my greatest dreams.

Because for me, not doing so, wouldn't be living at all.