The other day, I was talking to a younger friend of mine who was really having a rough time with a lot of things going on in high school, some typical and others so upsetting that no one should really have to deal with them. I obviously won't go into detail - that's her story to tell - but overall she's struggling through moments of thinking she wouldn't be able to go on, that she's doomed to unhappiness. And it made me reflect on my experiences, and on the times that I've felt that way.

As we approach 2018, I've found myself looking back on my past, and the journey that I've undertaken to get to what I'm doing now. It's really been a long one--if you asked ninth- or tenth-grade me if I thought I'd be where I am, she would have laughed and dismissed it as a pipe dream. Honestly, at that point in my life, I was wondering if I'd even make it through high school, much less be going to a dream university, attending classes I love, with some of the best friends I could ever ask for.

Yet, here I am, having conquered things I thought were beyond me.

I know this article probably won't be "relatable" or even necessarily interesting, but I want to share my experience. For one, because I'm proud of it, and also because I remember feeling like no one felt the way that I did. I remember feeling lost, alone, like I was the only one of my peers who was convinced that she'd never make it. My story is certainly not indicative of all--it comes with a healthy dose of luck mixed with white, upper middle class privilege, and plenty of people certainly deal with more--but hopefully someone can look at it and find a little bit of hope.

So for anyone who feels alone, scared, with no direction, like you can't ever be happy, this is for you.

When I entered high school, I was dealing with at least one undiagnosed mental disorder: social anxiety disorder. For those unfamiliar with that, essentially it's a deep seated fear of social situations. And I don't mean a dislike of talking in front of the class or being nervous to talk to a new person--I mean behaviors like refusing to eat if you're around other people because you feel like they're analyzing every bite you take, or having full-blown panic attacks if the teacher calls on you in class.

To put it mildly, it stunted my social growth. Most of the friends I had were made out of coincidence or mutual association, and at that time I could count on one hand the amount of times I'd had a friend over to my house since middle school. I couldn't ever imagine myself being able to do something like go to a restaurant with a group of friends, much less ask someone out on a date or talk to someone new.

Freshman year was, in large part, me struggling with this--attempting to force myself out of my shell and feeling worse and worse every single time I did. Soon I just resigned myself to a life of loneliness, aside from the few friends I'd amassed, and my anxiety continued to tell me they'd soon tire of me. It wasn't easy and sophomore year, it got harder.

Sometime between freshman and sophomore year, I developed generalized anxiety disorder, or GAD, as well as depression. This meant that I was either on high alert, constantly stressed, constantly feeling like my world was falling apart even when it was stable, or feeling like life was pointless, without the motivation to do so much as get out of bed. These two states warred with each other; I remember describing it to my therapist later as like a roller coaster. One day I'd be on an anxious high, trying to do a million things at once and freaking out because all of them couldn't get done, and a couple days later I'd find no desire to even take care of myself.

Coupled with my social anxiety, which essentially took away my support system, I didn't know how I'd make it. Because around that time I was also diagnosed with juvenile arthritis after some of my cathartic activities like playing music or writing stories started giving me pain. I had needles stuck in me at least once every couple of months for different conditions, missed school for tests, and watched my grades rise and fall with my anxiety and depression.

However, I was high functioning, so when people looked at me, they couldn't see any of this. They saw a student who was making mostly A's, even if they dipped sometimes; a student who was involved in extracurriculars; a sweet, quiet girl who had promise and ambition. Despite my anxiety, I looked outwardly calm, or at least relatively so, and despite my depression telling me that there wasn't any point in doing the things I needed to, I did them. To be fair, I was certainly surviving. I was getting through the day.

But trust me, I wasn't living.

In November of 2014, I was about ready to give up. I hated just waiting with bated breath for days that my anxiety and depression would let me breathe. I hated constantly feeling horrible and not knowing where to get help. Getting ready in the morning had turned into getting ready for battle, and I was sick of it. But luckily, I had a few moments of clarity that got me to talk to my parents about my issues, and thankfully, we were and are well off enough for me to get into counseling.

Now, in this respect, I was incredibly lucky. Many people don't click with their very first counselor, and it takes a few different tries for them to establish a healthy relationship. However, for me, it just took one. The counselor I was matched with fit me like a glove. She understood me, she helped me feel heard, and finally, I felt like I could talk about my problems without shame. Before, my anxiety and depression had felt like a dirty little secret. In my counselor's office, they were problems, sure, but I wasn't the only one with them and finally, for the first time in a long time, there was finally hope.

It was a battle still, and life wasn't perfect right away. Everything was a struggle for a long time, but instead of feeling like I was stuck in a downward spiral, I finally could start climbing upward. Sometimes I fell, sometimes I stumbled back, but overall, I was moving forward. And from there, my life started improving by leaps and bounds.

I made more friends, communicated better with my old ones, and created a system of lovely people that helped me get through the days where life was harder than normal. I started to put myself out there, armed with coping mechanisms from therapy and the encouragement of friends who I'd finally told about my struggles, and soon I started conquering milestones I thought I'd never be able to before. I went on a date, I went out for a celebratory meal with my AP class, I spoke my mind during class discussion sometimes, despite my opinion not being the popular one. In August of 2016, I started taking anxiety medication, something that scared me because of all the stigma behind it, and even the smallest dose made a world of difference in regulating the disorder.

Last spring, I decided to go to a college out of state, one where I wouldn't know anyone, and one that I never thought that I'd be going to, despite my anxiety about the matter. I was terrified of living with a roommate, of making new friends, of being away from my comfort zone. But after going through with it, I would make the decision again a million times. Because at the University of Montana, I'm honestly happier than I've ever been. I love the majority of my classes, my anxiety and depression are under better control than ever, my arthritis is largely leaving me be, and life is incredible.

This is a place I never thought I'd be in. This is a high that I never thought I'd achieve, and I can see even better times in my future. So looking back on my sophomore year, when every day was a battle to get through my illnesses, physical and mental... it's incredible to see how far I've come. I came from rock bottom to the apex of my life thus far.

So, this is me saying, in an overly cliche'd way that everyone is probably sick of hearing, it does get better. But it doesn't do that on its own. I didn't just wait for things to get better. I found strength I didn't know I had and I managed to conquer many fears, many insecurities. To all of you going through something even remotely similar: I don't know anything about your struggles, I don't know what you're dealing with. My story could be nothing compared to what you're currently living through, and you might just want me to get off my high horse and stop lecturing.

But even though I don't know specifics, I know your life can improve. As Christopher Robin said, "You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think." You might think you can't do this. You might think that things won't get better. But trust me, you'll find the place to reach out. You'll meet someone who will help you. It won't be easy, it won't just come to you, but you can do it.

I know you can.

So here's to 2018, a place where we'll hopefully all start making steps to a better self, a place where our lives will reach new heights of wonderful, and a place where we can hopefully make the changes that will help us be the amazing people we know we can be.