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Families serve as great support systems. Some people are fortunate to have dysfunctional,su yet loving families. Some people find and create their family. But there are some of us that do not have the love and support of our genetic families, adopted families, or friend families. We may be lost and alone, looking for that group of people to depend on and exchange compassion with. Or perhaps we have become so used to solitude and unfamiliar with what a family is and should be, that we stop seeking for that support system. At a time when all I need is support, I find myself lacking support, but also passive in my search.

There is a small group I attend, but in all honesty, that support only stays with me inside that room. This is a small group of college students with nothing specific or intentional in common. Group therapy? Support Group? I’m not sure what privileged kids complaining and crying about their lives in a circle qualifies as…When I bring my baggage to this group, my peers offer me words like “brave” and “strong” and say how much they hurt thinking about what I have to go through. This is the cycle we all regurgitate toward one another and this illusion of support diminishes once I leave. Now maybe these acquaintances think about me when we are not together, pray for me, and send me good vibes, yet the weight of invisible arms embracing me disappears once I open those doors.

Counselors keep telling me that I need a support system, to be around people like me, that I don’t have to go through this alone. The fact of the matter is: I cannot see the possibility of a group of outsiders helping to brighten the darkness of my thoughts or sweeping away the dysphoria that drowns me in what-ifs.

Sure others could help me with my interpersonal relationships and learning how to navigate microaggressions and being misgendered. But it is nearly impossible to escape my own mind and self. Though I isolate myself and try to find that time to breathe, I end up trapped in a room with my worst enemy.

This person has no concrete aspirations and goals (anymore). They don’t have the energy to end their own life, nor do they have the motivation to continue living. They are a floating shell of a person. A black hole. An abyss. A void.This person is exhausted, drained, uninspired and empty. This person tells me I am worthless, mediocre, unlovable, untouchable, a mistake, a basket-case, and an indisputable hot-mess.

Even if I had the support of the masses, I would still have to deal with the person within me.

And so I am working on that.

I am making to-do lists. Grocery lists, homework lists, book lists, and artsy lists. I try to blog. I try to journal. And very slowly I am working towards creating a “self care shrine”. And while I may not be able to get rid of myself, I can attempt to silence the negativity and pity and lack of self-empathy.

I may or may not get better from talking to strangers and professionals every week. I may or may not get better by taking medication. I may or may not get better after I graduate from the school I loathe so much.

But I can at least try. Where I have little hope and don’t see water in the glass at all, I can keep trying.

And maybe, just maybe…I can support myself.

And I can be my family.