I am a clean freak.

I clean when I'm bored, I clean when I'm upset to help put me in a better mood, I clean simply because I like it. My room is always top notch clean - everything exactly where it is supposed to be. I keep laundry going at my house, doing literally as much as I can to keep me happy. I don't enjoy washing dishes, but best believe I still wash dishes. I am know as the cleaning lady to my family, they all offer to pay me just to clean up there house. I love cleaning, so when I let my room get messy, I knew I was getting bad again. I didn't care about the 12 cups sitting on my desk, the laundry piled up to my waist, or the crumpled up paper that was surrounding my feet. I just did not care.

I love my family. I am a huge family person, and I always have been. I don't get to see my oldest brother, sister-in-law and nephew that often due to the fact that that's life and everyone is busy. When I am able to see them, I am filled with so much joy, I can hardly control myself. I will put off cleaning to spend time with them, that's how much I enjoy it. I knew it was getting bad when I couldn't wait for them to leave my house. I knew it was bad when I got angry just seeing their faces. They weren't doing anything, just talking about houses they had looked at to move closer to us. They were just spending family time with us and I just wanted them gone and to be left alone.

I love school. Yes, it gives me the typical college anxiety, but I love it. I love being able to work on homework and to be able to have that structure in my life. I knew it was getting bad when I quit doing my homework and just gave up, weeks into the semester. I knew it was getting bad when I was looking at ways to drop out and not tell anyone, jobs that I could get to support myself. I just wanted away from the structure I had once loved.

Nobody really noticed at first, they never do. Nobody noticed I quit cleaning around the house, nobody noticed that I hated being around my family or that I quit doing homework. Nobody said anything, so it kept getting worse. Nobody said anything until I was one wrong word away from losing my boyfriend. I had really started to neglect him and he had had enough. He called me one night and I thought that was the last time I would hear from him. It took him yelling at me for hours before I could feel any emotion and what I did feel killed me inside. I started to bawl, hyperventilate and almost passed out. All the emotions I had been neglecting when getting bad, everything I pushed behind me came to the forefront. It was so overpowering, I could hardly speak.

So I listened.

I listened to him call me out on being distant, on showing no emotion good or bad. He called me out for everything and that's when it clicked. I knew it was getting bad, but nobody called me out on it, so I let it happen. I let myself go back down the rabbit hole that had consumed me for eight years. I let it take me over because it was something I knew so well, it was welcoming to shut off emotions and not feel anymore. It took almost losing the one guy who calls me out on all my crap before I realized how bad that hole really was.

Because of him spending hours yelling at me, trying to bring me out and back into the light, I was able to talk to my mom. I was able to tell her about the suicidal thoughts I had. About never feeling happy. About feeling like I was the pawn in everyone's game and that I was just a joke. I came clean about hating everything about myself. I came clean about things I didn't even know I felt anymore, things I didn't know I did feel. Because he yelled at me, I was able to come clean and am on the path to get myself back, on the path or recovery and of getting help. On a path that has already opened doors I didn't know what were closed.

I knew I was getting bad and didn't want to do anything about it. Sometimes getting yelled at wakes you up.