2015 was the worst year of my life so far.

I know, I know. 2016 is supposed to be the ultimate evil year to which none can compare. I'm sorry. It wasn't my favorite either but, let's be real here: it was the year I got to start from scratch and rebuild a life. It was the year that came after 2015. I'll set the scene:

Bright lights. Graduation day. A young girl walks across the stage. She smiles. A flash. The picture is horrible (her mother hangs it directly next to her high school one in case no one had noticed the extra 30 pounds). Surprises. Party. All of her friends around her. Crying. Drinking. Tender moments with family.

And... Scene.

You see, I'd gotten through the first half of 2015 relatively unscathed. It was mostly studying and sleeping and panicking, but all normal. I graduated college, something that I would be the first in my family to achieve. I had complete open space to decide what to do -- where I would go. The world had offered itself and its time to allow me to make my next step. Everything was going to be okay. I did this. I could do anything.

But the next few months were anything but how I'd imagined them. The details are muddy. But it happened like this:

I was misdiagnosed with a condition that I was then medicated for unnecessarily. What the medications did to me was too much to put into words. I was very, very ill. During my recovery, my cat died, I was falsely set up by a friend at work to cover up their theft, I was harassed and stalked over the holidays to the point of police involvement, my preexisting mental illness had spiraled into a place where I could no longer control it and considered in-patient treatment, I had fallen out with my oldest friend in a very permanent sense, as well as other friends through previously listed events, and I developed a chronic health condition which still exists to this day.

I felt very, very alone.

And I know there are many worse things that can happen. But, for me, despite much bigger things I've lived through in my life, this was the hardest. The medication affected me mentally as well as physically. So I was nearly catatonic before we had realized what was wrong. I did a lot of things I regret during this time. I was desperate to feel better but convinced I was losing control mentally. I managed pathetic acts from sobbing voicemails to someone who won't listen to them, to the difficult ones, like staying away from social activism because I could no longer emotionally process these events healthily (this is okay, by the way. Activist Burnout is real and common and your mental health comes first.)

I walked into 2016 feeling as if I had been altered. My life, my friends, my job, my plans. I was in shambles in a way that made me feel mentally weak. In a way that the simplest words would convince me that something was terribly wrong and I would spiral. My time was split between my mother and my partner because I could not handle being alone and to this day I thank them with everything I have for standing by my side.

It all felt so complicated. But it was really simple: I had to rebuild everything. I acknowledge the privilege that comes with even having the resources to stop and start again.

I felt very small and very afraid. I moved. Found a new job the week I would have run out of money. Gave the time and energy it took to heal and take care of myself. I finally was able to begin taking the right psychiatric medications for my mental disorders (this is a growth and healing process all in itself). I was actually given the opportunity I had wished so badly for after I graduated college: to start fresh and begin anew.

Now as I sit here, acknowledging my less than perfect life, I feel grateful for the perspective I've earned. It has been both sobering and uplifting. I've found a middle ground where I recognize my areas of unhappiness and understand the realistic choices I have to make them better. I no longer have the naive idea that if I do not conquer the world, nothing else will do. I've realized quickly that I don't have to settle for anything less than my dreams, though. That I do not have to commit to the common timeline of life (9 - 5 job, marriage, children, mortgage, in whatever order), but, instead, that I can find my way slowly and selfishly as I go.

I am still unhappy. My mental and physical health are both rapidly improving, but it is a battle. I feel unfulfilled working in an office, and feel overwhelmed and stressed over personal, family, and financial situations. I still run into my old best friend's mom now and then and cry a little afterward. But I am bare and open and experiencing normalcy in my best way -- with all the effort and open-mindedness I have.

Most importantly, I'm feeling like myself again. If not an older, stereotypically wiser version. I see what keeps me from living the life I deserve. And I've made new plans. These past couple of years have not turned out how I expected at all, but I feel in control of my life again.

I know where I want to be. I think I'm gonna be fine.