You'd think after 26 years, I'd know more about myself - but the truth is I have no idea who I am.
I don't remember much (probably by choice) about my childhood. And from the ages of 12-20 I was on Paxil to treat depression. Once I decided to say a big "fuck you" to the pharmaceutical industry, I spent years in varying states of inebriation, as well as smoking ludicrous amounts of pot and experimenting with other recreational drugs. After moving to a new town, I unwittingly sobered up and quickly became some one's long-time girlfriend. After being brutally dumped by this douche, I proceeded to throw myself into other peoples issues in hopes of helping them rather than dealing with my own problems. Do you see where I'm getting?
I can tell you I've played the role of "rebellious teenager", the "tree-hugging wastrel", the "significant other", and the "supportive mother-hen" - and I played them pretty damn well. But I've now come to a point in my life where I must be the "independent woman", and I have no fucking clue what that means.
I'm not sure if the major depressive episode I have slipped into is the cause of this identity crisis, or if it goes the other way around, but I can tell you it really blows one way or the other. And I can't help but think that, with no role to embody, is being "that depressed girl" who I am destined to be?