WHEN I was 18 years old, I was broken.
Same applies for when I was 19 too.
On the cusp of adulthood, at a time when life should have seemed full of opportunity, excitement and happiness, I was in the darkest pit of despair I have ever crawled into.
Broken. Shattered. Basically ripped apart.
From the outside most people would never have guessed my inner turmoil and misery. I looked the same. I smiled the same smile. And crucially, I said all the right things.
But inside I was wretched.
A poor shadow of the bright, sparky young girl I’d been just a few years earlier.
When your spirit is broken, when the essence of who you are is smashed to smithereens, everything around you in your world starts to reflect that too.
So my relationships with the main people in my life were full of cracks. I could only ever attract broken people. And my life was a total mess.
As I fell apart, so did everything around me.
And for the life of me, I could not hold things together.
I was, at that time, the kind of person that you probably would have really disliked.