Of all the deaths I’ve experienced this year, the worst by far is my own.

Between loss, grief, trauma, anxiety, depression and PTSD, I’ve lost my sense of self this year. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I feel lost. I feel alone. I feel confused.

While losing others is extremely difficult, losing myself feels even worse. I feel like I’m a new person. I’m an alien in my own body. I’m a fraud, an intruder. I don’t even recognize myself anymore.

Of all the deaths I’ve experienced this year, the worst by far is my own.

I wish I could go back to the me before I experienced such loss. Before my mental health took a toll on me and I lost who I was. Before the anger and hurt took control.

Healing is a journey. It’s not a destination, but a process that is never ending. Death is a destination. It takes a long time to reach or it comes quickly and unexpectedly. Either way, reaching this destination allows for closure. Healing has no closure. It is evergreen. Forever. And healing from the death of self is nearly impossible.

Of all the deaths I’ve experienced this year, the worst by far is my own.

I miss who I was just three months ago. Even with anxiety and depression and migraines, I knew who I was. I knew what I stood for. I knew what battles to fight. I knew when to back down.

Today, I’m confused. I’m lost. I no longer know who I am or what I want. I’ve questioned my values and beliefs. I’ve questioned what healing looks like. I’m not sure what my future holds or who I am anymore.

I don’t want to lose myself just because I’ve lost so much lately, but it’s difficult.

Of all the deaths I’ve experienced this year, the worst by far is my own.

Communicator. Educator. Empath. Survivor. Writer.