If there’s one thing I can say about myself, it’s that looking back on my past, I have done some pretty cool things.

Not everybody does the hard work to get in to Berklee College of Music on scholarship, and fewer people start Greek Life at the college while they’re there.

Most folks don’t also spend time doing an internship at a web-based radio station at the same time and also write up and shop a $5 million business plan that they think will revolutionize the music industry only to see their hopes dashed in the wake of 9/11… But still pick up the pieces and talk with folks like CD Baby about how to get independent artists more exposure even when it won’t benefit them financially.

Not everybody rebounds from a divorce by packing up all their worldly belongings and setting out to Los Angeles to go to law school at Southwestern Law School or can finish law school even after they’ve been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis either.  But I did that too.

And I know for a fact that most people don’t try taking the bar exam with seizures. But I did that. Twice. Because I’m tough as nails, and I don’t quit unless I know I’m licked.

That’s why I know, I will kick this depression and anxiety in the ass and somehow emerge a better person than I used to be.

I’ve been rapidly losing friends on Facebook that I used to know in high school, and truth be told they were never close friends to begin with. To them, I say “So long, and thanks for the lack of support.”

You can’t grow without pain.  You can’t change without being uncomfortable, and damn it all if I’m not uncomfortable right now.

I really wonder who I’m going to be… but I know, because I’m putting constant effort in (like going to the gym at least every other day, going to the doctors that I need to see, setting miniature goals and keeping up with my progress), that I’m going to make it past this struggle.

So when I had a seizure at the gym tonight, and Adam suggested that I immediately stop taking the Abilify that I just started again, I didn’t feel like that was a setback. I felt like that was a statement of strength where we both knew I wasn’t going to take a step backwards into “seizure disorder world” and instead, we’re powerfully pushing forward into wellness.

Things are going to get better.  It’s the only way I’m willing to go.