3 years, 5 months.

Wednesday 13 August 2025

Hi Friends!

Long time, no read.

I come to you as a completely different person, but still exactly the same.

I have spent the last 3 years and 5 months trying to re-shape my identity. 

Trying to tear out my old skin and put on a new, both literally and figuratively.

In the last 3 years and 5 months, I started law school, took a break from law school, went back to law school and finally finished law school.

In the last 3 years and 5 months, I have read 50 books, give or take. (Yes, I am pretentious enough to keep track.)

In the last 3 years and 5 months I have fallen in love and fallen out of it.

In the last 3 years and 5 months....you get the point.

Back then, my identity was my mental illness. And I was fine with that — cherished it, even.

It made me different. Special.

Until it didn’t.

Life with mental illness was hard 3 years and 5 months ago, but I thought it was temporary.

 "I would grow out of it", as my parents would say.

So, although I was drowning then, I knew it would soon come to an end.

I would read the Subtle Art of not giving a fuck, and I would stop giving any fucks. I would read Atomic Habits and James Clear would heal my self-destructive traits. I would study the 'Drifting' Bible plan and gain my new identity in Christ.

And for a while, i did heal. 

I started listening to podcasts, taking walks. Hell, I even started meditating. I had posters all over my walls reminding me that the pain was temporary. And I believed them. It was going to end, I knew it was.

Until it didn't.

25mg. 50mg. 100mg. 200mg. 400m - ei, kwani haikua temporary?

 I've had good days. Many many good days.

But the gag is, I was always drawn back.

I was drawn back to the water, and when I thought it couldn't get any deeper. It did. Boooy, did it get deeper.

Three years and five months later, I still cannot breathe. My breaths were shallow before. Now, they're all consuming, a tight hand to my throat. 

A hand that lingers. Even in my greates achievements, It pulls me under. Its always pulling me under and it doesn't stop.

Okay, back to my identity. It hasn't changed, friends.

No matter, how much I try, I still go back to the person who can barely out of bed, the angry one, the anxious one, the lazy one. 

The one who is still drowning.