It wasn't a mental breakdown. lets just make that part clear.. it was more of a.. rage attack than anything else. A rage/panic attack that lasted a grand ol' 45 minutes and ended with me breaking a majority of my plates and cups. What can I say, breaking stuff makes me feel better. After my little episode, I was completely relaxed and it helped me sort out what I needed to do, and that was to get happy. Or at least close to it.
My Post-tramatic stress was brought on by what happened before I started my second year of college. My roommate tried to kill herself, but luckily I was there to call the police and stop it. I just to think that it was my fault, that the reason she wanted to off herself was because I wasn't that nice to her and that she didn't really have many friends. She was an exchange student and was failing everything. I remember her coming home crying because she failed her entry to english thing. I think that her home sickness was an aid in her thoughts, she would stay up all night talking really loud on her phone and I wouldn't be able to sleep because of it. After this little experience I decided that what happened didn't change me, but made me more aware of what this sort of thing does to people. If you kill yourself, how many people does it affect, and if your unsuccessful, how many people d you "damage".
All of this, added on to my final year of college. The stress, not just from what happened previous, but from my earlier experiences from high school and my home life. Left me emotionally detached, as some would say. I didn't do too well in the first part of the year, the first four months of school were horrible actually. And after breaking up with my boyfriend at the time, it made me realize how much he was holding me back. And maybe if I ended it in first year I would of done a FUCK of a lot better. When I was with [Name] he made me feel like I wasn't good enough to do want I wanted to do, he would tell me that I should "learn how to Draw" and that I didn't know how to use pencils properly, and that I should learn how to paint. He would alway give me really bad advice about how to go about doing my work, and it would end up looking like shit. But after I ended it, he started complementing my work, which he has NEVER done before. After a while i'm sure that even he realized that he was holding me back, after are relationship ended, the day I got my first A was the day he failed a grading. And for the first time in a while I actually felt good about what I was doing. And my work quality started to improve sevenfold. When this year ended, a month or so into the summer I got a letter saying that I made the Deans list, and that I had a GPA of 4.0. Now, when I was in high school my grade average was in the high 80's but I never made it to be on the honour role. High school was easy, since with the way I am and the way I looked scared a lot of people, they would leave me alone, and I would finish my work. Don't get me wrong, I did have a friends when I was in high school most of them were more just people that would say the occasional "hello" in the halls, but I had a few close friends that would keep me in check, kind of like the friends I have now. I've never been considered for anything school wise before, so getting put of the Dean's list made me really excited.
Now graduation is coming up, and i'm rather interested in what my prof's have to say, if anything at all.
I still have a lot to work out, in my head. I need a better way of dealing with my anger, and my depressive moods. The one thing that helped to most was my work, my art. so I believe that if I keep doing what i'm doing now I can become a happier person.