Dearest Fatherly Figures [read that in a shitty medieval accent],
I (20-year-old) was diagnosed with depression and anxiety during secondary school (~ age 14) and was treated for PTSD in early primary school (~ age 8). I left school early because I realised pretty quickly that it was both unnecessary and ineffective. I did a bridging course and got into university, but I dropped out before the end of the semester. I was then stagnant for around a year, laying in my bed and only getting out to play video games, eat, use the bathroom, and shower, if I could even do that. I was not properly taking care of myself and some days I just laid in bed, crying or doing absolutely nothing.
After a lot of therapy, I went back to uni, but almost immediately dropped out when my mother got sick so I could care for her. I'll admit that I could have been a lot better - I should have made her proper meals; I should have kept the house tidier; I should have been more attentive with her medications; I should have followed up with all the paperwork and 'action items' more - but I think I did well enough. I took her to hospital during her episodes, slept with her there, helped her shower and go to the bathroom, cleaned up any 'accidents', helped her with her appointments, etc. [I'm not sure why I'm typing this part as it isn't really necessary to what I want to say. For sympathy? To fish for praise? To justify myself or ease the guilt that I should have done more for her? Honestly I'm not sure and I'm not in the mindset to care at the moment. On a side note, I very quickly learnt what burnout and empathy fatigue feels like - it feels like a severe desensitisation to your own mother's screams of pain and feeling like you're a piece of shit for not comforting her properly.]
After around a year of that, I went back to uni again, this time into a very difficult degree, but it's the only one I can see myself doing. I ended up dropping classes the last two semesters or just not being able to finish them and missing the final assignments. At the beginning of this year I moved away from home for a variety of reasons. To focus on uni, to make my commute shorter, and to get away from very toxic family members. I didn't want to leave my mum in their care, but it got to the point where it wasn't exactly a choice. In my mind she choose the side of the people abusing me by refusing to kick them out and continuing to enable abusive behaviours, so I left before I hurt myself and/or someone else. Since she first got sick she's been getting worse, it's mostly been a consistent decline but since I moved her health has taken a much steeper nose-dive. I attribute it to a mix of improper care, abysmal living conditions, and the unavoidable nature of her condition. I've known since the beginning that this was the final countdown [duh-duh-do-doo duh-duh-do-do-doo], but I'm pretty certain that she won't live to see Christmas if her quality of care doesn't improve dramatically.
It's almost the end of the semester and I've had to go back down to one subject again, if I can finish it it'll be the third course credit that's a passing grade or above on my academic transcript. My GPA is trashed but I'm hoping that I can get those grades dropped. The deadline to apply is in around 20 days so I really need to get on it because I tend to freeze up when I'm overwhelmed or anxious [also - I'm great at planning to get back on track, not very good at doing it]. All I've got left is a single exam and a decent grade for it isn't actually out of the question just yet.
To wrap it all up in a cute little package with an empty Sertraline packet for a bow: I'm scared. I want a life worth living more than anything and I'm scared that if I can't finish this degree that it'll prove to myself that I don't have what it takes to be a functioning member of society. Yes, I understand that university isn't the only path, I'm practically the fucking monarch of alternative paths, but if I can't do this then I'll be right back at square one - a lazy jobless failure of a human being with no friends or future. Perhaps it's a bit unfair to call myself lazy, especially since I don't want to be the way that I am, but 'depression' isn't exactly a catch-all, is it? I want to do something with my life and make a difference in the world. Everyone regrets their 20's, so I'm not even going to try to avoid it, but I don't want to look up one day and realise that my life has become as depressing as I'm scared it'll be. I don't want to waste away like I know I will without purpose. I don't want to end up like my parents, living paycheck-to-paycheck, or my sibling, a selfish rat.
Don't worry - I'm aware that I'm perhaps allowing my own emotions to distort my perception of the truth, but I've given myself plenty of credit and lee-way. I'm not sure if I want comfort or advice, maybe even just a place to write down my feelings. I just need something because this clearly isn't working and my stubbornness only stretches so far.
Thanks.