Five months ago, I was lying in bed, tear-stained covers pulled over my head, in my darkened bedroom with my curtains pulled to a tight close. It was almost two in the afternoon. I had no desire to get out of bed and face the day, my family, the outside world, anyone or anything--because it seemed like everything in my life had just come crashing down, within a matter of fewer than two months.

To briefly summarize everything that had gone wrong for me (and a few of these things have been mentioned in my other articles as well): things didn't work out with who would have been my first boyfriend; a friend completely stabbed me in the back and ruined my relationship with two others; and, for the final kicker, I got an email from my college (which was also very much my last-choice, back-up school) that I was on academic probation. My not-yet-diagnosed-nor-medicated depression, anxiety and ADD just made all of this even worse, as well.

I was heartbroken. I was lost. I was defeated, discouraged--basically any negative adjective you could possibly think of. I really thought that I had permanently screwed things up for myself. My plans had always been to transfer to a college that originally waitlisted me when I applied for freshman year, but now I had discovered that this process was going to take longer because of the grades I'd earned in the fall. I knew that when I would return to school in February, the boy my heart was aching over wouldn't be there and probably wouldn't be thinking about me, and my original friend group would be completely disbanded. I thought that I had nothing to look forward to, and practically nothing to work for anymore. Like a huge, insurmountable mountain stood between me and everything I hoped to achieve in life, and I had absolutely no means, nor will, to even attempt to get over it. Depression also played a huge role in these feelings and this mindset, but my entire situation was conducive to how I was feeling, nevertheless.

The month after I found out that I'd landed myself on academic probation (which had been the final straw, for me) was probably the hardest of my life. I finally got a glimmer of hope in January, when I actually got my mental health diagnoses got the green light to start going on medication. As spring semester began and progressed, my mental health improved drastically, I was able to focus most of my energy on school, and I slowly (but surely) started to move on from the boy from the first semester. I still had a lot of ups and downs this past semester, especially with friend groups and the continuing drama with the girls on my floor; but for the first time in forever, I was able to put it out of my mind when I needed to and concentrate on schoolwork and bettering myself. I still had my days when I felt like all my attempts were hopeless, or that nobody actually liked me, and my nights where I cried myself to sleep over everything that had gone wrong for me since the first semester, and where I thought that I would never find anyone else that made me feel the way he did. But somehow, someway, I managed to push through it.

Now I'm at home again, on my couch, in an infinitely better place than I was in December. I just checked my grades from this semester: all A's. I might even still be able to transfer to that school I wanted to go to for this coming fall, with my new cumulative GPA. Even if I do end up having to wait until next spring, that's okay; I'm all set to live in a beautiful, renovated res hall at my current college next semester where the only girls from my floor from this past year are my two best friends. I don't have to talk to the girls who made me and my friends' lives a living hell ever again if I don't want to. And that boy I was so heartbroken over from last semester? I've finally moved on and realized that we really weren't right for each other, anyway. I'm talking to someone else who is one of the sweetest guys I have ever met and gives me the attention I deserve. I just got hired for a really great summer job and I'm all set to start training next week. My mental health is finally at a good place, and I finally have motivation and hope for my future that was seriously lacking before I started my medication. Everything really is looking up.

I'm revealing all of this shit about my life so that, if anyone who stumbles across this article feels like they've hit rock bottom, you can know this: I've been in your shoes, and everything started looking up in the end. Life is full of highs and lows, and the hardest, but most important, thing to remember during the lows is that a high will always, eventually, follow. There's a certain balance that the universe tends to keep so that we're not going to stay in the gutter forever. With time, and with effort and patience on our end, things will work out for the best and will work out the way they're supposed to. Even if you feel like you've lost everything, some things just aren't meant to be; and I promise you that better things that are right for you will eventually come along. The only reason I can confidently say this is because I honestly felt like everything was over for me just five months ago, and now everything is looking up for me and I'm right on track to have the future that I want.

So keep pushing, keep grinding, and don't be afraid to reach out for help during your time of need. Everyone knows what it feels like to have shit hit the fan, and the important people in your life will be there for you to help you through it. I know things suck right now, I know you're exhausted, and I know you want to give up. But don't. Your high is coming--you just have to wait for it.