If a Bumblebee Can Fly, So Can I

By every law of physics, a bumblebee shouldn’t be able to fly - too heavy, too awkward, too everything. And yet there it goes following the road ahead, wings buzzing like it never had a thought of doubt. I figure if a bumblebee can do it, so can I.

Even when the road winds and the world doubts, I keep flying.

But truth be told, the odds weren’t much fairer for me than they were for the bumblebee.

Several years ago, I was diagnosed with ADHD, depression, and anxiety - all in one gut punch of a moment.

I had been sad for months. Crying without reason. Staring at the front door in the mornings, unable to leave for work. On Fridays, I’d close my blinds and disappear - no showers or baths, no cleaning, no leaving the couch. Just TV and long, heavy naps that stretched through the weekends. I finally sought help and, for the first time, started taking medication for depression. Still, I thought it was just a phase. Something that would pass if I waited it out.

Eventually, I made the decision to move back home. Maybe that was the missing piece - maybe being closer to family would pull me out of the slump. So I packed up my life and made the 10-hour move back to my hometown, where my kids and ex-husband (husband at the time) were already living.

I was happy to be home. I should have been better, but my depression only deepened.

I thought, I know what’s wrong - I’m working from home. I need to be around people. So I took a $20,000 pay cut just to work in a building again, desperate to fix the ache that was crushing me.

But it didn’t work. The pressure of the new role only magnified everything I was feeling.

It got so bad that one morning, on my way to work, I got pulled over for a dead inspection sticker - and had a full-blown nervous breakdown. I couldn’t drive. I had to call my mom to come get me. She drove me home. I crawled into bed and cried the rest of that day and into the next.

Finally, I called my mom again and asked her to take me to the doctor. I knew something had to give - or I wasn’t going to make it out of the darkness I was sinking into.

She drove me there without hesitation. The doctor put me on my first-ever leave of absence, started me on a cocktail of medications, and scheduled me with a therapist.

After a few sessions, my therapist gently suggested something else: She thought I should see a psychiatrist - not just for support, but for an official diagnosis.

Then it came - ADHD, Persistent Depressive Disorder, and Generalized Anxiety Disorder.

I was a little shell-shocked. Honestly, I thought she was the crazy one. ADHD? Me? But then I started researching... and suddenly, my entire life made sense. The struggles. The obstacles. The losses. They weren’t character flaws - they were symptoms.

I tried to return to work and cried the entire day. Eventually, I quit - no new job lined up, no plan. I just knew I couldn’t do that anymore.

I lived off my 401K for about four months, then found a slow-paced, peaceful job at the local library. It was exactly what my mind - and my soul - needed. Quiet. Space to heal.

During that time, life threw even more at me: The beginning of a divorce. Moving out of our home. Moving back in with my mom. All of it piling onto the fragile foundation of my mental illness.

Days passed.

Weeks passed.

And little by little, I started learning to cope.

To manage.

To live.

I eventually got another job - a lot like the one I had once quit. And for a while, I thought maybe I was okay.

But about two years in, the weight came crashing down again. I had to take another leave of absence. My mental illness wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

About two and a half years after that, I was let go - for "not being present." And they were right. I wasn’t. My mind simply wouldn’t allow me to be.

And so here I sit now - broken but not defeated. Focusing on getting my mind stronger. Rebuilding my life - again - in a way that makes room for peace.

I’m working on reviving my old hiking group. I’ve started this blog. I’m running again (yes, running - mind ya business). And I'm giving my energy to the small, steady things that bring me back to myself.

I don’t know exactly where my road may lead - and for the first time, I’m not trying to overthink it. I'm just out here, trying to fly.