I was in the grocery store in the town that I go to school in the other day and one of the people who works there who I have chatted to at the check out many times walked by and said: “hi smiley!” I smiled at this upon instinct. Happy to be thought of that way. Then I quickly became reflective about why being called smiley and being recognized for being happy meant so much to me. For an extremely long time, I wasn’t smiley and I wasn’t happy. I have had to put in so much work to be in the bubbly, happy go lucky, grounded place that I am.

Anyone who knew me when I was in high school will tell you that it was a hard time for me. When I was a freshman we had to write letters to ourselves that we would open senior year. I recently opened that letter and was stunned at how obvious it was that I was depressed. I talked about feeling a tight crunchy feeling in my chest, how I felt stuck, and how I didn’t want to live there. I didn’t come out and say the words “I’m not happy, I’m miserable,” but it is there. Reading this and having been called smiley so close together made me feel really strongly that I wanted to tell my story and share how I wasn’t always this sunny.

I lived in England for a year when I was 7 turning 8 (mostly 8) or second grade. It was a utopian year where my dad didn’t work full time and we lived really close to my English family. Being 8 I adapted into the culture quickly and claimed in as my own. Coming back I was different and those differences were not accepted. The friends I had before I left had mostly moved on. I started to shut down and grew more and more shut down and closed off. I became standoffishly shy and kept everyone at five arm’s length away. I didn’t want to be in Yarmouth, in Maine, or in the US. I wanted to be in England. This slowly built from 3rd grade until sophomore year when I became so mentally unstable I wondered if I was bipolar. I had terrible anxiety and would have panic attacks often. It all peaked on a day when I realized I didn’t know the last time I was happy for an entire day. I couldn’t remember being happy for one day.

That was when I knew I needed help. I talked to my mum and we agreed that for a while we wouldn’t go to the doctor. My mum didn’t want me to be on antidepressants and neither did I. We went to alternative routes, such as reiki, seeing intuitive’s and mediums, yoga, dancing, walks, and tea. It was a slow process but within two months I was mentally stable enough to travel to Italy with a school trip. The tight feeling in my chest was starting to go away but I still wasn’t happy and wanted to be living in England. There was one thing that made me feel better, running. I was and still am a fast runner. Both with sprinting and distance. It was one thing that validated me being good enough. I needed and loved my identity as a runner. That identity made me who I was.

Junior year was probably my happiest year in high school. Some of my favorite classes and one of the years I felt most connected socially. It was also the first year I skied at Sugarloaf. Coincidence? I think not.

Senior year was a roller coaster. I was more grounded so I could handle things better. I didn’t fall apart as badly as I had in middle school or sophomore year. Still, I was utterly unhappy. I chose to stay in state for college and thank god for that. I still was in a place where I wanted to hop across the pond and be in England as soon as I could when applying to college and my freshman and sophomore years. I still was quiet and insecure all the time. I needed the instant group and sense of belonging that comes with doing a sport. I still needed the identity of being a runner and being fast.

However, in my first two years at UMF, I decided it was and accepted Maine as being home. It was and still is hard for me to say that Yarmouth is home as it takes a lot to want to live in a place where I was unhappy for close to 10 years. My junior year we went to England for Christmas. At this point, I was at the most mentally and emotionally stable I had ever been. I was still very insecure, especially when it came to dating and guys I liked. I was 21 and had never been kissed or on a date. I didn’t have a date for prom either junior or senior year. Despite this, I had developed a strong sense of self. It was during this trip that I realized that if we had stayed in England we wouldn’t have lived in the town I lived in for that year. Also that I wouldn’t trade my childhood in Maine for anything.

My spring semester of my junior year a lot of important things happened. First I had my first kiss and my first fling, relationship thing. Finally, it had happened and it was fine, no big deal at all. The important thing was that my insecurities about flirting and guys in general melted away. Senior year I became a big flirt and had so much fun with that. My insecurities melted down to almost nothing and I really chose to love myself. The biggest thing that was holding me back from this before I had my first kiss was self-judgment. After I no longer judged myself for my lack of experience. The other insanely important thing that happened was that I became a ski instructor at my favorite place in the world. Working for Sugarloaf gave me a supportive and accepting community that was the perfect place for me to grow. It gave me an escape place and a place where I could be myself. I came into the job nervous and quiet but for the first time, I didn’t feel invisible. I had found home and happiness all at once.

Being grounded, happy and in love with myself takes a ton of work. I am constantly clearing other people’s negative energy from my body and grounding myself in who I am. For about a year I have been happy, really, truly happy. I now can’t remember a recent day when I was unhappy for more than an hour. Life is really amazing and takes a lot of work. I still constantly have to work on myself. I am work in process, it’s just that the work is easier than it used to be. I hope that everyone who is overwhelmed with life can read this and know that I wasn’t always this sunshiny. I wasn’t always smiley.